



















CARSON OF RED RIVER 


BY THE SAME AUTHOR 

Carson of Red River 
Green Timber 
The Wilderness Patrol 
The Bush-Rancher 
Northwest ! 

The Man from the Wilds 
Kit Musgrave’s Luck 
Lister’s Great Adventure 
The Wilderness Mine 
Wyndham’s Pal 
Partners of the Out-Trail 
The Buccaneer Farmer 
The Lure of the North 
The Girl from Keller’s 
Carmen’s Messenger 
Brandon of the Engineers 
Harding of Allenwood 
The Secret of the Reef 
For the Allison Honor 
The League of the Leopard 
The Intriguers 
Prescott of Saskatchewan 
Ranching for Sylvia 
The Long Portage 
Vane of the Timberlands 
A Prairie Courtship 
Master of the Wheatlands 
The Gold Trail 
Thurston of Orchard Valley 
The Greater Power 
Thrice Armed 
By Right of Purchase 
Delilah of the Snows 
For Jacinta 

Winston of the Prairie 
The Dust of Conflict 
Alton of Somasco 
The Cattle Baron’s Daughter 




CARSON OF 
RED RIVER 


By HAROLD BINDLOSS 

i* 

Author of “Green Timber,” “The Wilderness 
Patrol,” “The BuskT-Rancher,” “Northwest!,” 
“The Man From the Wilds,” “Kit Musgrave’s 
Luck,” “Lister’s Great Adventure,” “The Wilder¬ 
ness Mine,” “Partners of the Out-Trail,” etc. 



NEW YORK 

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 

MCMXXIV 






















?> 5' 1 

■ p O' „ 

Off 


Copyright, 1924, by 
Frederick A. Stokes Company 


PUBLISHED IN ENGLAND UNDER THE 
TITLE, “THE LUTE PLAYER” 


All rights reserved 


SEP 20 1924 




Printed in the United States of America 
©Cl A801912 

* 





CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Blake's Piano. 1 

II. The Drawing Office.11 

III. Netherhall .20 

IV. The Call.31 

V. Kit Plays Up.40 

VI. Kit Takes a Knock.49 

VII. Evelyn Conquers .59 

VIII. Kit Tunes His Fiddle.69 

IX. The Road to the West .... 79 

X. A Rest by the Way.89 

XI. The Road Forks . ..100 

XII. Kit Plays for His Supper . . . 110 

XIII. The Cook's Musician.121 

XIV. The Water Cure.131 

XV. Kit Makes Progress.140 

XVI. Kit Goes Visiting.149 

XVII. Lost Lake.163 

XVIII. Mrs. Austin Meddles.175 

XIX. Kit Takes His Cue.184 

XX. Austin's Understudy.191 


















CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXI. Jasper Experiments. 201 

XXII. Mrs. Haigh Reviews Her Plans . 211 

XX-III. Blake's Confession. 222 

XXIV. A Stolen Excursion. 230 

XXV. Led ward's Present. 242 

XXVI. The Breaking Strain. 253 

XXVII. Jasper Waits .. 264 

XXVIII. Kit Goes Ahead. 274 

XXIX. The Storm. 285 

XXX. Alison Steals Away. 299 

XXXI. Whinnyates Farm. 309 

XXXII. Kit Claims His Reward .... 319 
XXXIII. Jasper Wins. 329 













CARSON OF RED RIVER 




Carson of Red River 


CHAPTER I 
blare's piano 

T HE evening was calm, and the window at 
Blake’s flat by the river mouth was open. Kit 
Carson, standing with his back against the curtains, 
felt the rather shabby room was homelike, and for 
long he had not known a home. When he got a 
holiday he went to Netherhall, and after the drawing 
office, he liked to carry a gun across the moors; but 
the big house at the dale head had not the charm 
that marked Blake’s cheap flat. 

Kit, however, thought the room less shabby than 
usual. For one thing, Mrs. Blake had got a new 
rug and the soft green harmonized with the brown 
stained boards. Then a new cottage piano occupied 
a corner and a water-color drawing, Kit’s present 
to Mabel Blake, was on the wall. Kit had an eye 
for line and he thought the drawing was not bad. 
Perhaps its purchase was something of an extrava¬ 
gance, but Kit was extravagant and Mabel was his 
pal’s wife. 

Kit felt the charm that marked the flat was really 
Mabel’s. She was plucky and cheerful, although her 
1 


2 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


fight was hard. Blake was a sober fellow, but when 
he married her had debts, and his pay, like Kit’s, 
was small. Kit was his groom, and at the wedding 
had rather thought to lose his friend. Instead, he 
had got another. 

Mrs. Blake, carrying a tray, came in, and when 
Blake took her load, gave Kit a happy smile. 

“The pennies for the meter did not run out, and 
my birthday feast is served,” she said, and balancing 
on an arched foot, as if she meant to dance, indicated 
her dress. “But how do you like my new clothes?” 

Kit studied her. Mabel Blake was short and 
light; her figure was boyish and Kit knew her 
boyishly alert and happy. 

“I can’t judge the material, but the lines are good. 
One gets a sense of balance and poise, which, I 
think, is not altogether the dressmaker’s art. Any¬ 
how, you can dance, and if the shipyard company 
goes broke we’ll try our luck on the road. You will 
dance for crowded houses and I will play the lute. 
Tom, perhaps, might be business manager.” 

Mabel laughed and Blake grinned, for he knew 
the others knew his money went. 

“Isn’t the lute rather out-of-date?” he inquired. 

“Ah,” said Kit, “there’s its attraction! The 
troubadours used the lute and your wife has got 
the joy and confidence people knew in the old 
spacious days.” 

“I wonder whether those days were joyous,” said 
Blake. “All the same, Mabel’s pluck is good. When 
we married she undertook an awkward job, but 
she never grumbles. Anyhow, you’re not a trouba- 


BLAKE’S PIANO 3 

dour. Your job’s to make drawings for modem 
machines.” 

“There’s sober Tom!” Mabel remarked. “But 
supper will soon get cold.” 

They sat down at the little round table, and 
Mabel, glancing at Kit, rather thought he ascribed 
to her qualities that were properly his. Kit, like 
her husband, had a post in the drawing office at 
the shipbuilding yard. He was thin but athletic, 
and as a rule his eyes twinkled. Kit indulged his 
whimsical imagination and sometimes one did not 
know if he joked. Mrs. Blake knew him generous 
and romantic, but he was a first-class draftsman and 
made progress at the office. In the meantime, Kit, 
with frank satisfaction, used his knife and fork. 
At Netherhall one dined ceremoniously and wore 
evening clothes, but one did not get food like the 
suppers Mabel cooked on the gas stove. By and by 
she indicated the piano. 

“Sometimes you’re not very keen, Kit. For ex¬ 
ample, I was forced to point out I’d got new clothes 
and ask for a compliment; and now it looks as if 
you had not noticed all Tom’s extravagance. But 
perhaps you want to be polite?” 

“I saw the piano, and after supper I’ll try it. Just 
now I’m very happily occupied. All the same, I’m 
glad to see Tom’s luck has turned.” 

“The piano’s not yet ours and we’ll talk about it 
again,” said Blake. “Until Kit has satisfied his 
appetite you must leave him alone, Mabel. Although 
he’s sometimes romantic, he’s frankly flesh and 
blood.” 

“The flesh is not very conspicuous,” Kit rejoined, 


4 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


and gave Mrs. Blake his plate. “One sees why Tom 
gets fat. If you’d like a sincere compliment may I 
have some more?” 

By and by Blake and Kit carried off the plates, 
and when they came back Kit turned down the light 
and signing the others to the window, pulled the 
curtain along the rod. The flat was at the top of a 
tall building, the night was fine, and one looked down 
on rows of houses and the dark river. On the other 
bank blast-lamps’ flames tossed, and the trembling 
illumination touched skeleton ships. Hammers rang 
with a rhythmic beat; and at the top of the steep slope 
steelworks engines throbbed. In the background a 
pillar of fire, intense and white, was reflected by a 
cloud. The pillar sank and vanished, and by con¬ 
trast all was dark. 

“Janions’ converter,” said Kit. “If they roll us 
the plates as they agreed, you ought soon to run 
the Mariposa down the launching ways. I don’t 
know if her boiler will be ready.” 

“Then you’re not satisfied about the circulation?” 
Blake inquired, and Kit thought his interest rather 
keen. 

“We are nearly satisfied. Colvin’s hurrying me, 
and when Mabel has had enough I must go back 
to the office: the tube-shop foreman wants some 
particulars. Anyhow, we mustn’t bore Mabel. I 
like your window, madam. It commands a moving 
view.” 

“The fires and grime of industry?” said Mabel 
and laughed. “I begin to doubt if I know you, Mr. 
Carson. Sometimes you’re the minstrel you talk 


BLAKE’S PIANO 5 

about, and sometimes a shipbuilder. Which would 
you really like to be?” 

“I don’t know. There’s the trouble. Anyhow, I 
do like your window. It commands the road to 
countries not yet modernized—where men beat the 
monkey-skin drums and play the pipes, make love 
by primitive rules and kill their rivals. For 
example-” 

A whistle shrieked on a high note and dropped to 
a harmonious chord; a ruby beam moved across 
the trembling reflections. Then a funnel and a 
vague, long hull stole through the shipyard smoke. 
The beam faded, the hull was foreshortened and 
the ship went round a bend. The wave she threw 
off beat the bank and melted in the dark. 

“The Negapatam, bound for Singapore and the 
Malay seas,” said Kit. “But I expect you get 
cold.” 

Blake shut the window and pulled chairs to the 
small gas fire; and Kit thought his doing so char¬ 
acteristic. Tom was a very good sort, but he was 
sober and, so to speak, rather soft. 

“Why must you go back to the office on my birth¬ 
day?” Mrs. Blake inquired. 

“Well, you see, I get my pay for building ships, 
and the Mariposa will soon be waiting for her fast¬ 
steaming, anti-incrustation boiler. Our boiler; the 
very latest thing of the water-tube type!” 

“What is a water-tube boiler ? And why are you 
so keen about the Mariposa’s?” 

“In an ordinary marine boiler the flame goes 
through the flues; in the water-tube pattern the 
water circulates in tubes and the flame is outside. 



6 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


The type has some drawbacks I mustn’t bother 
you about, but it steams fast and carries a heavy 
pressure. Well, a foreign government requires four 
small, swift, shallow boats for tropical rivers and 
has ordered two; one from us, and one from the 
opposition yard/’ 

Mrs. Blake nodded. ‘'The Mariposds yours; 
if she beats the other boat, you will build the lot?” 

“Colvin hopes we’ll do so. The rivers she’ll 
navigate are muddy, and in a water-tube boiler mud 
is awkward. We have been forced to modify our 
standard pattern, but if we get the results we expect, 
we reckon on beating the other boat. The improve¬ 
ments cannot be patented, and in consequence we 
don’t talk about our plans.” 

“But if the Mariposa wins, your competitors 
may bribe somebody to study her boiler.” 

“It’s possible,” Kit agreed. “All the same, the 
tubes are covered by a casing, and if the opposition 
did find out something useful, we’d have begun to 
build the fleet. Now you know all about it and we 
have done with shipbuilding. Let’s try the new 
piano!” 

He went to the piano and began to play. The 
others knew his talent, but they thought the music 
strange and melancholy. Yet the air was haunting. 

“It is not piano music,” Blake remarked. 

“I expect it was first written for the guitar; 
Spanish music’s Moorish music. Don’t you hear 
the strings and the wind in the sand? Can’t you 
picture the camel-dung fires in front of the black 
tents, and smell the curling smoke. But I’ll try a 
song. It’s about the King of Spain who lost 


BLAKE’S PIANO 


7 


Gibraltar, but did not lose all the fellow lost who 
lost his heart. Do you hear the guitars tinkle 
under the lattice window?” 

“I do not,” said Blake, smiling. “Still, you see, 
I’m not a lute player.” 

“Oh, well, the next lot’s blatantly pictorial,” said 
Kit and pushed down the pedal. “Shipyard ham¬ 
mers! You can hear that! Now the Negapatam’s 
whistle calls in the smoke and fog. She steals down 
river; her screw throbs steadily and stops. The 
pilot’s boat vanishes and the engines beat a quicker 
rhythm. The dark water heaves and splashes at the 
bows. She steers south for sunshine and the islands 
of pearls and spice.” 

He shut the piano and swung the revolving stool. 
“Well, the instrument’s jolly good and I hope it will 
soon be yours.” 

“The company stipulates for punctual payments,” 
Blake remarked. 

“If you can stand for my bringing my fiddle and 
Mabel will play, I’ll meet the next installment. I’ve 
got some fresh music, but my landlady’s restive and 
I imagine she means to be firm.” 

‘‘Practise when you like,” said Mabel. “You have 
talent, Kit, and I think you know our house is 
yours.” 

“I know you are very kind, and Tom’s a first- 
class sort. When I joined up at the yard I was 
raw and trustful, but he saw me through the boiler 
shop and steered me past some awkward pitfalls. 
At the yard, he’s old Tom and famous for his 
stanchness and soberness. Then when he married 
I got another friend and now your house is home. 



8 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


Well, I hope your birthdays will be happy and 
numerous. Your faithful servant, ma’am!” 

Blake’s look was rather embarrassed, but Mabel’s 
smile was frank and kind. She trusted her husband 
and Tom was altogether her lover. Kit admitted 
he had not used much reserve, but Mabel knew his 
sincerity, and when he declared he was her servant 
he did not boast. He owed his friends much and 
his habit was to pay his debts. Then Mabel turned 
her head, as if she listened, and got up. 

“I haven’t yet given you coffee, and I believe 
the stove is out. Have you a penny, Tom?” 

“Perhaps it’s strange, but I have two shillings, 
and I don't know a stove that cooks like yours,” 
said Kit. “To-night’s a festival. Let’s be generous!” 

“You don’t keep house,” Mabel rejoined. “So 
long as the stove is just, I’m content, but sometimes 
I doubt.” 

She took the penny, and when she went off Blake 
pulled out his wallet. 

“My debt has bothered me, Kit, and to pay is 
some relief. I’m afraid I forced you to be frugal.” 

Kit left the notes alone. When Blake married 
he was embarrassed for money and Kit urged him 
to use his. 

“You must think for Mabel. I don’t want the 
sum.” 

“Take the notes,” said Blake, and indicated the 
piano. “My luck has rather obviously begun to 
turn.” 

“I admit I wondered,” Kit remarked. 

Blake lighted his pipe and knitted his brows. 
Kit had recently imagined Tom’s look was careworn. 


BLAKE’S PIANO 


9 


“You are entitled to inquire. Not long since I 
took my model to Allinson and he was interested. 
In fact he was willing to help me experiment.” 

""Splendid!” said Kit, for Blake had long experi¬ 
mented on an improvement for the marine oil¬ 
engine. “Allinson’s the man to make the thing go.” 

“If I’d seen him sooner, it would have helped,” 
Blake remarked, rather moodily. “Anyhow, he 
agrees the gear will work, and since he thinks we 
can get a patent, he gave me a small sum for an 
option. It accounts for the piano, and my paying 
my debt. The notes are yours. Thank you, Kit!” 

Kit took the notes and soon afterwards Mabel 
carried in the coffee. They began to talk about 
Blake,’s invention, but by and by she asked: “Are 
you going to Netherhall for your holidays, Kit?” 

“I hope to get off after the Mariposa’s trial run.” 

Mrs. Blake smiled, a sympathetic smile. “You 
want to feel you go in triumph? Well, since you 
made the boiler drawings, if the Mariposa steams 
very fast, it will be something of a triumph.” 

“I’d like Evelyn to know I made some progress,” 
Kit admitted modestly. 

“You promised to show me her portrait. Have 
you got it?” 

Kit pulled out his pocket-book and Mabel studied 
the photograph. Evelyn was obviously young, and 
Mabel thought her attractive, but she was not alto¬ 
gether satisfied. Evelyn’s mouth was ominously 
firm, and one got a hint of hardness. The girl was 
perhaps ambitious; she was not generous. . . . 

“She has not yet promised to marry you ?” 

“Not yet. Our relations know my hopes and I 


10 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


think, on the whole, approve, but Evelyn is not rich 
and my poverty is notorious. There’s a sort of 
agreement that if I make good and get a proper post, 
we may talk about an engagement.” 

“But are not your relations rich?” 

“My uncle, Alan Carson, was accountable for my 
premium at the shipyard,” Kit replied in a thought¬ 
ful voice. “He’s a very good sort, but he’s 
justified to stop; then, although Netherhall’s a 
beautiful old house, the estate is his wife’s. To get 
me a proper job is my other uncle’s part, but, so far, 
I haven’t bothered him, and it does not look as if he 
were very keen. Anyhow, if he does get me a post, 
it will probably be abroad.” 

“Ah,” said Blake, “the power your old, landown¬ 
ing families use is strange! You command our 
battleships, you rule the Indian Civil Service, and 
you marry American millionaires. But where do 
you expect to go ?” 

Kit smiled. “The Carsons are not landlords, and 
belong to another lot. We have nothing to do with 
India and battleships. Our business is to hammer 
iron, and for the most part our investments are in 
Canada . . .” 

He stopped and getting up, resumed: “Mabel’s 
tired; I expect you have had enough, and I must 
push off for the office.” 

Mabel gave him her hand, told him to come back 
soon, and let him go. 



CHAPTER II 


THE DRAWING-OFFICE 

A T the top of the steps to the drawing-office 
Kit stopped and leaned against the rails. The 
building slips were occupied, and when work was 
pushed ahead at night he liked to look about the yard. 
Smoke rolled across the river; the tide ebbed and 
wet mudbanks reflected the steelworks fires. When 
the flames got dim, smaller lights trembled on the 
curving channel. On one side bare, skeletons of 
ships melted in the gloom, and behind dark walls 
wheels rolled. Then sparks blew from twinkling 
forges on a wooden stage and light hammers rattled 
like a rifle volley. 

Kit knew the rivet gang fastened the Mariposa's 
plates, but he must get to work and he pulled out 
his key. The head draftsman, Blake, and the 
night watchman had other keys. When Kit opened 
the door he heard steps and somebody shouted: 
“Hello, Mr. Carson!” 

Kit turned and saw the boiler-shop foreman in 
the yard. 

“When do you reckon to start us on the Mariposa's 
job?” 

“You’ll get the drawings in a day or two,” Kit 
11 





12 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


replied. “I expect Robbins will take the plans to 
Colvin in the morning, and if he is satisfied, we’ll 
make the blue prints. You have, no doubt, got your 
orders ?” 

“All’s ready to shove ahead. Robbins doesn’t 
want the tubes to stand in frame for folks to look 
at, and as soon as the joints are made we’ll put the 
casing on. Well, I reckon my lot won’t talk, and 
nobody but 'myself will handle the plans. The 
boat’s a pretty model and looks as if she’d go, but 
our job’s to drive her, and I expect the opposition 
would give something for your prints.” 

“It’s possible,” Kit agreed. “All the same, I 
understand their boat’s frames are up, and they have, 
no doubt, begun the boiler. I must get to work at 
ours. Good-night, Seeley!” 

He shut the door, switched on a light, and sat 
down. The spacious office throbbed and when the 
hammers crashed the windows rattled, but on the 
whole the noise was soothing. For the greater part 
of twelve hours Kit had been strenuously occupied, 
and now for a few minutes he could relax. 

He pictured Blake and Mabel by the gas fire at 
the little flat, talking about Tom’s good luck. Well, 
Tom deserved his luck; he was a first-class pal, and 
at the beginning had helped Kit more than he knew. 
Then Kit imagined for Tom to meet his household 
bills was hard; his clothes were not very good and 
he brought his lunch to the office. Tom, however, 
had Mabel, and Kit thought she justified all the self- 
denial a man, for her sake, could use. 

Kit pictured her shopping where food was cheap, 
counting the pennies for the meter-stove, and im- 




THE DRAWING-OFFICE 


13 


provising supper for her husband’s friends. Yet 
she was happy. Mabel had a man’s pluck, and some¬ 
times when Kit thought about her he was moved. 
But he was not at all her lover. Mabel was his pal’s 
wife and, when he was rich, he was going to marry 
Evelyn. To think about it would not help and he 
must get his drawing-board. 

Unlocking a cupboard, he carried the board to a 
table and put out his drawing instruments. The 
boiler was the manager’s and the head draftsman’s 
job, but they did not draw the plans. They told Kit 
their notions, gave him rough sketches, and allowed 
him to calculate dimensions and work out details. 
His part was important, and he liked to know the 
others trusted him. In fact, if the boiler steamed as 
it ought to steam, he imagined they would frankly 
acknowledge his help, and their doing so implied his 
getting a better post. On the whole, he would rather 
stay at the yard than bother his uncle. So far, it 
did not look as if his progress interested Jasper Car- 
son. 

Kit measured some tubes on the drawing and 
began to calculate. The calculations were intricate, 
and by and by he pulled out his watch. His brain 
was getting dull, and since he did not want to stop 
until morning, he must brace up. He tried again 
and found his reckoning accurate. The trouble was, 
a curved tube was rather small, and the bend was 
sharp. It might check the water’s even flow and one 
must allow for incrustation. 

Now Kit thought about it, he had stated some¬ 
thing like that to Colvin, and in the first plans the 
tube was larger. He was persuaded the first plans 


14 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


would work, but Colvin did not agree. Kit went to 
the cupboard for the drawings he had made some 
time since, and stretching the paper on a board, 
stopped and moved the light. Where he had used 
the compasses another time he saw two small marks, 
as if somebody had used a larger radius to sweep 
the curve. Kit knitted his brows; he did not think 
he had lengthened the radius, but if he had done 
so, it would give an easier curve. He had argued 
that the curve ought to be easier. 

He experimented with his compass. Unless he 
pressed hard, its point did not leave a mark like 
the other, and he was puzzled. The plans were kept 
in the cupboard, and he carried the key; and for some 
time nobody but Blake had gone to the office at 
night. Blake had nothing to do with the boiler, and 
all knew him trustworthy. 

Kit admitted it was possible his compass had made 
the mark, and he resolved he would not bother about 
it. The tube must be a little larger and the curve 
easier. He got his scale and a book of tables and 
resumed his calculations. At length he was satisfied, 
and all was ready for Robbins to approve. Kit knew 
Robbins would approve. For long he had labored 
at the job, but the job was good. Now he was 
frankly tired and, stretching his arms across the 
table, he let himself go slack. 

He was young and romantic, and the Negapatam’s 
whistle had excited his imagination. Sometimes he 
felt the steamer’s whistles called him from the draw¬ 
ing-office and the smoky yard. He pictured the 
Mariposa pushing up a big calm river and the muddy 
wave she. threw off lapping the mangrove roots. He 


THE DRAWING-OFFICE 


15 


saw dazzling sunbeams pierce the forest and touch 
tangled creepers and orchids on the rotting trunks. 
The little boat stemmed the yellow flood and her 
boiler steamed as the company’s boiler ought to 
steam. 

When the boat had run her trial Kit was going 
for a holiday, and he saw another picture. Evelyn, 
carrying a fishing rod, balanced on a ledge by a 
sparkling pool. Her clothes harmonized with the 
lichen on the stones, and her slender body was 
posed like a Greek statue. The rod bent, and Kit, 
in the water, held the landing-net. 

The picture melted, and another got distinct. 
Evelyn occupied a hammock under the big oaks at 
Netherhall; Kit lay in the grass, and in the shade 
water splashed. Sometimes he joked and Evelyn 
smiled; sometimes he talked about the Mariposa’s 
boiler. When one talked about things like that 
Evelyn was not bored. Kit sensed in her a practical 
vein, and she knew he must make his mark. Steam¬ 
ship whistles did not call Evelyn, but Kit smiled, 
a happy smile. Her part was to make home beauti¬ 
ful, and he was willing for her to curb his romantic 
extravagance. 

Kit straightened his bent shoulders. Unless he 
got on his feet, he would soon be asleep, and he 
put the plans in the cupboard and locked the door. 
When he got his hat the watchman came in and 
pushed a peg into the clock. 

“You’re going, Mr. Carson! I s’pose nobody 
else was in the office since I was round?” 

“I was alone. Why do you want to know?” 


16 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


“Mr. Robbins’s orders was, if anybody but you 
and Mr. Blake came back at night, I must report.” 

Kit smiled and went down the steps. Old Robbins 
used some caution, but he ought to know his men. 
All the same, since the boiler’s advantages could not 
be patented, perhaps caution was justified. 

In the morning Kit carried the plans to the head 
draftsman’s table, and for a time Robbins measured 
and calculated. Then he said: “You have used a 
longer radius for the intake tube’s curve. In fact, 
to some extent, you have gone back to our original 
notion.” 

“That is so,” Kit agreed. “The water must cir¬ 
culate freely.” 

Robbins smiled. “You’re an obstinate young 
fellow. I know you liked the first plan, but I begin 
to think you logical.” 

He used his scale, and Kit thought about the mark 
on the other drawing. His experiment with his 
compass did not banish all doubt, and he admitted 
he was obstinate. Obsessed by the advantage of a 
flowing curve, he had perhaps unconsciously tried 
a longer radius. Then Robbins looked up. 

“Well, I believe all is right, and if Colvin agrees, 
we’ll make the prints and templates for the shops. 
The job’s good, and if the Mariposa beats the other 
boat, I’ll see your part is known. I rather think 
Colvin studies you, and when a young man’s wanted 
for a good post his word carries weight.” 

Kit went back to his table and took his tools from 
a drawer. Pulling about some at the bottom, he 
saw a small worn eraser he knew was not his, for 


THE DRAWING-OFFICE 


17 


the rubber was not the stuff the company’s draftsmen 
used. Blake, however, was fastidious and liked an¬ 
other sort. Kit imagined Tom had left the piece on 
his board, or perhaps he had carelessly carried off 
Tom’s. He put the thing in his pocket and got to 
work. 

The plans were sent to the shops and the boiler 
was built. The steamer was launched, and one 
morning Kit climbed to a stage by the waterside. 
Fifty yards off, the Mariposa rode at a mooring 
buoy and a number of important gentlemen had 
gone on board. The current went up river, and 
oily black eddies revolved along the mud-bank’s 
edge, but the tide was not yet full and for an hour 
or two large steamers would not come up the channel. 

By contrast with the murky water, dark sheds, 
smoke, and cinder heaps, the Mariposa was spot¬ 
lessly clean. Her low hull was finely moulded, and 
the long shade-deck overhead followed her rail’s 
bold curve. Tapered masts and slanted funnel 
harmonized with the flowing lines below. But for 
her brown teak deckhouse and the black clothes and 
green and gold uniforms of the group by a door, all 
on board was white; Kit thought her beautiful. 
Moreover, she looked speedy. 

A bell rang, a little smoke curled from the funnel, 
and Kit pulled out his watch. The fires were lighted 
and since the foreign government stipulated that 
the boiler must steam fast, he must know when 
steam was up. The smoke was thin and indistinct, 
and he saw the combustion was good. So far, 
all went well, but to wait was hard and he lighted 


18 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


a cigarette. A very small defect would spoil the 
trial, and one could not altogether guard against 
another’s carelessness. Workmen were human. 

After a time, steam blew from a pipe and stopped. 
The mooring chains splashed, a bell rang, and the 
engines began to throb. Foam tossed about the 
screw and the Mariposa leaped ahead. Her bows 
lifted and rode on a muddy wave. The wave sank, 
and re-forming at her rounded stern, broke and 
trailed away in a long, eddying wake. Small, angry 
rollers splashed against the mud and Kit’s heart 
beat. Steam was up before the stipulated time and 
the boat’s speed was good, but the harbor com¬ 
missioners’ rules were stern and the engineers dared 
not yet let her go. When she reached open water, 
all on board would acknowledge he and Robbins had 
made a first-class job. After a few minutes the 
Mariposa vanished round a curve and Kit returned 
to his drawing-table. 

In the afternoon he was called to the manager’s 
office. Two or three directors were in the room, 
and one said: “You are Jasper Carson’s relation?” 

Kit said Jasper was his uncle, and the director 
nodded. 

“Then, it looks as if you had inherited some of 
his qualities. Mr. Robbins declares your help was 
useful, and perhaps you’ll be glad to know the boiler 
does all we claim, and the boat is nearly a knot faster 
than the buyers stipulated. Stick to your job and 
by and by you may get a better. Our rule is to push 
on a keen man.” 

“There’s another thing, Carson,” said the manager. 


THE DRAWING-OFFICE 


19 


“I have given the cashier some orders—you can take 
it for a mark of the company’s appreciation.” . 

Kit, with something of an effort, replied politely, 
and went off. His heart beat and the blood came to 
his skin. He was young and triumph carried a thrill. 


CHAPTER III 


NETHERHALL 

B LEAK moors, seamed by dark gullies, enclose 
Netherdale, and a river, leaping from the peat, 
breaks on whinstone ledges and plunges into alder- 
shaded pools. Where the valley widens, larch woods 
roll up the slopes and Netherhall and its oaks occupy 
a flat round which the water curves. The house is 
old and dignified, and belonged to Mrs. Alan Car- 
son. The Carsons were ironmasters, but when Alan 
married he sold his foundry. For some time the 
business had not prospered, and Alan was glad to 
let it go. He was cautious and hesitating, and when 
he faced obstacles he went another way. As a rule, 
since his marriage, the way was Mrs. Carson’s way. 

Four or five hours after Kit left the shipyard, 
he sat in the grass at Netherhall by Evelyn Haigh’s 
basket chair. He smoked a cigarette and sometimes 
he talked, but for the most part he was content to 
look about and study Evelyn. The picture was 
attractive. For a background, old oaks, tufted by 
shaggy moss, rolled down to the stream. The leaves 
were touched by the coppery gleams that mark the 
oak when summer is young, and blue shadows lurked 
among the trunks. 


20 


NETHERHALL 


21 


Evelyn’s clothes were white, but her shady hat 
and her belt were yellow. Her hair was black; 
her face was small, rather thin and finely molded. 
She was lightly built and her pose was graceful, 
but her mouth was firm and sometimes her look 
was calculating. Kit, however, did not notice things 
like that. 

He rested his back against a tree and let himself 
go slack. The afternoon was hot, and but for the 
splash of the river, all was quiet. 

“You look tired, Kit,” Evelyn remarked. 

“I expect I’m lazy. All the same, at the office 
we were pretty strenuously occupied, and I was keen 
about the boiler. Now the boat has run her trial, 
I feel I’m entitled to relax, and when one wants to 
loaf I don’t know a better spot than Netherhall.” 

Evelyn agreed. Slanted sunbeams pierced the 
shade and touched springing fern and the velvet 
grass where rabbits fed. Outside the thin wood, a 
lily-pool in the wide lawn reflected dazzling light, 
and the sun was on the old house’s front. The 
stone was stained by lichens, and yellow roses 
climbed the wall. One smelt flowers and heard the 
languid hum of bees. 

“But the boat’s steaming fast was your triumph,” 
Evelyn resumed. “Then did you not get a reward ?” 

“I got fifty pounds a year extra pay and thought 
myself fortunate!” 

“The company is not very generous,” said Evelyn, 
and laughed. “Sometimes I feel your part, like mine, 
is rather a joke. You labor at the shipyard for 
ridiculous pay, but when you visit at Netherhall you 
fish and shoot and drive expensive cars. Your aunt 



22 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


and my mother rule the dale, but when nobody is 

about we use stern economy. You don’t, Kit-” 

She stopped, and touching the little yellow jewel on 
her neck, resumed: “In fact, I feel you’re rashly 
extravagant.” 

“To buy keen satisfaction is not extravagant, and 
when I see you wear my present I know the invest¬ 
ment’s sound. Anyhow, Mrs. Haigh would not 
allow me to give you a ring.” 

Evelyn blushed. Kit was not her acknowledged 
lover, and Mrs. Haigh declared that before they 
talked about his marrying Evelyn he must be able 
to support a wife. 

“Mother is very firm, but I think we’ll let it go. 
Well, if you are not extravagant, you certainly are 
generous. You sister wanted a wrist-watch, and 
she has got the watch!” 

“Oh, well. Not long since, a pal at the yard paid 
his debt, and since I didn’t expect to be paid, I 
thought I was entitled to use the money.” 

“I don’t know if you’re logical, Kit. If you did 
not expect to be paid, why did you lend?” 

“As a rule, I hate to be logical,” Kit rejoined. 
“You see, Tom’s pay is small and the girl he wanted 
to marry lost her post and could not get another. 
She had no home and her savings melted. Then 
relations in New Zealand sent money for her ticket 
and urged her to join them; but if she went it 
looked as if she must go for good. . . Kit 
stopped and resumed in a thoughtful voice: “Some¬ 
times one must take a plunge, and Mabel’s pluck 
was fine. She married Tom, and although their 


NETHERHALL 23 

fight was hard, now he’s patenting a useful invention, 
I think their troubles are over.” 

“Ah,” said Evelyn, “perhaps pluck is the greatest 
quality! So long as one is not afraid, one is not 
tempted to shabbiness; but after all, the risk your 
friends ran was daunting, and I’m not very brave.” 

Kit’s mouth got tight. Evelyn’s color came and 
went, and he knew she was moved. She, like him, 
was young, and passion and adventure called. Per¬ 
haps, if he used a strong effort he might carry her 
away. For all that, Kit knew he must % not do so. 
He did not see Evelyn happy at a flat like Blake’s, 
and to picture her saving the pennies for the stove 
was ridiculous. Besides, he had agreed that he must 
get a proper post. 

“Oh, well,” he said, “I expect Tom’s luck was 
rather remarkable, and his plunge might have cost 
him and Mabel much. Besides, we agreed we would 
not be rash.” 

Evelyn gave him a strange look, and he doubted 
if she altogether approved his resignation. To know 
he had taken the proper line was not much comfort. 
Then Evelyn smiled. 

“What did you buy for yourself ? Since you got 
the money, I expect you bought something,” she 
said in a careless voice. 

Kit played up. -“I bought a fiddle bow at a second¬ 
hand shop. A pretty good example of a fine old 
maker’s workmanship. In fact, I think the dealer 
didn’t know the treasure he had.” 

“Then, you did not enlighten him ?” said Evelyn, 
and laughed. “I like to feel you can sometimes 
conquer your scruples. But suppose the dealer was 



24 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


cleverer than you thought? Don’t they fake old 
fiddle bows?” 

“1’m a shipyard draftsman, and you don’t cheat 
a fellow who uses scientific tools.” 

“It’s possible,” Evelyn agreed. “At all events, I 
imagine one does not cheat your Uncle Jasper.” 

Kit looked up. An old gentleman crossed the 
grass and stopped a few yards off. Jasper Carson 
was tall and thin. His hair and brows were white, 
and his face was lined. His dress was careless and 
his look, as a rule, ironically humorous, but one got 
a hint of force. He gave Evelyn a rather baffling 
smile and said to Kit: 

“Loafing after your recent efforts?” 

“My efforts were pretty strenuous, sir. Then, on 
a summer afternoon, loafing has some charm.” 

Jasper’s glance rested on Evelyn. His look was 
inscrutable, but Kit thought hers got harder, as if 
she knew him antagonistic. 

“In the circumstances, perhaps it’s justifiable. 
You may think my statement strange, Miss Haigh, 
but long ago I was romantic, and when the days were 
golden we studied Tennyson. His verses harmonized 
with old English houses and ancestral trees, but the 
oaks at Netherhall are not the Carsons’ oaks and will 
certainly not be Kit’s. Harry’s claim is first and his 
type’s the landlord type.” 

Evelyn sensed a sneer. Harry Ledward was Mrs. 
Carson’s relation. 

“Tennyson is out-of-date, and we are modern,” 
she rejoined. “Kit talked about a steamship boiler 
and I was not bored.” 

“Kit’s an optimist,” Jasper remarked, and turned 


NETHERHALL 


25 


to his nephew. “The Mariposa made a first-class 
trial run, but perhaps you ought to wait until the 
other boat has steamed across the measured marks.” 

“I’m not anxious. The other boat’s no doubt a 
good boat, but she has not our boiler. In the mean¬ 
time, it’s not important, and although you banter 
me about loafing, it doesn’t look as if you were very 
much engaged.” 

“Netherhall is soothing,” Jasper agreed. “Still 
I’m not altogether slack. Sometimes I ponder and 
sometimes I plan.” 

He went off, and Kit’s eyes twinkled. “Jasper’s 
plans work, and his obvious duty is to plan for me. 
All the same, if he wants to send me to Canada, 
I doubt if I’ll go. He has much to do with Canadian 
engineering and bridge-building works, but I’m 
satisfied to stop in the Old Country.” 

“He’s your friend; I doubt if he is mine,” said 
Evelyn. “I like Alan Carson better.” 

“Alan is a very good sort, but when you doubt 
Jasper you exaggerate. All who know you are your 
friends.” 

“I wonder-” said Evelyn in a thoughtful 

voice. “But, if you’re not too languid, let’s go to 
the waterside and see where the big trout rise.” 

Kit got up and they went to the river, but he 
felt the tranquillity he had enjoyed was gone. Al¬ 
though he declared Evelyn exaggerated, Jasper had 
disturbed the brooding calm. 

In the evening Kit leaned against the terrace wall 
and tuned a violin. The long drawing-room window 
was open, and his sister, Agatha, struck a note on the 
piano. The evening was hot and the light had begun 


26 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


to go. One smelt wet grass and flowers touched by 
dew. In the gloom the river throbbed. 

Evelyn, Mrs. Haigh, and Mrs. Carson occupied 
a bench. Mrs. Haigh was short, alert and resolute. 
Her lips were thin, and when she pondered her 
mouth got tight. Although she was rather important 
at Netherdale, she was not rich. Mrs. Carson was 
tall and dignified. She sprang from old land-owning 
stock; Netherhall was hers, and she ruled her hus¬ 
band. Alan Carson, on the terrace steps, smoked a 
cigar. His skin was red, he was rather fat, and dully 
urbane. Since his marriage he was satisfied to potter 
about his wife's small estate. 

“The Spanish fellow’s music,” said Kit, going to 
the window. “Try to follow me; I mayn’t stick to 
the score.” 

Agatha struck a few notes and Kit’s bow touched 
the strings. He used double stops and the strange 
chords disturbed Evelyn. When the chords melted 
in melancholy arpeggios she set her mouth. She 
felt the man who stopped the strings was a man 
she did not know, and she liked to think she knew 
her lover. She was very quiet. All were quiet, for 
Kit’s playing on the terrace was justified. The music 
was not for the Victorian drawing-room, but it har¬ 
monized with the dark woods and throbbing river. 
By and by Kit turned to the others and laughed. 

“Well? Do you like it?” 

“I do not,” said Mrs. Carson. “What did you 
play?” 

“A Spanish muleteer’s song, but I expect the 
air was known in the desert before the Moors con¬ 
quered Spain and the singers were vagabond 


NETHERHALL 


27 


Bedouin. The people who built Netherhall and 
planted the oaks would not have much use for music 
like that.” 

“I expect that is so,” Mrs. Carson agreed, and 
added meaningly: “Your business is to build ships.” 

“Oh, well,” said Kit, “the strongest ships we build 
are soon out of date, but Netherhall has stood for 
three hundred years. In the morning the Bedouin 
strikes his tent and drives his camels to another well. 
The muleteer loads up his wine-skins and takes the 
road. He has no house; I dare say the mules are 
a moneylender’s, and all he owns he wears. All the 
same, he sings and sometimes he dances. . . .” He 
signed his sister. “Let’s try the Sevillana.” 

Agatha touched the piano and Kit began to play. 
He plucked the strings, and when he used the bow 
the double stops rang like harmonized guitars. 
Evelyn felt moved to dance and calm was rather 
hard. The music was exotic and marked by a touch 
of melancholy, but it fired her blood. As a rule, she 
hated to be moved, and she wanted Kit to stop. By 
and by he did so and carried his violin to the draw¬ 
ing-room. 

“Thank you, Agatha; they have had enough,” he 
said, and laughed a careless laugh. “I don’t know 
about my playing, but the bow I bought is good. A 
straight stick and a fine spring; the old Frenchman 
knew his job.” 

Agatha Carson came down the iron steps. She 
was tall and went quietly, but she was sister at a 
famous hospital, and her calm carried a hint of 
command. 


28 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


“Your composer’s mood is strange, Kit,” she said. 

“I expect his mood was his ancestors’ mood and 
they were romantic vagabonds. You get a sense of 
a sombre background, but it did not bother them. 
They owned nothing; so long as they could sing and 
dance, they did not want much. Perhaps their phi¬ 
losophy was sound.” 

“It is not our philosophy, and poverty is not a 
joke,” Mrs. Haigh remarked. 

“To see the joke implies some pluck,” Kit agreed. 
“Spaniards and Moors are fatalists; but I expect 
you feel one ought to be resigned. One ought to 
fight for all one can get?” 

“The Anglo-Saxons are gatherers and builders,” 
Mrs. Carson observed. “Our aim is permanence 
and stability. The things we get we make better. 
For example, Netherdale was a dreary bog, but we 
turned the floods by dykes; we drained and planted 
and built-” 

“Your work stands,” said Jasper Carson. 
“Netherdale’s a noble monument, but it cost three 
hundred years’ effort. Something of a job!” 

Evelyn looked up, for she had not heard Jasper 
arrive. He leaned against the wall and smiled, but 
she knew his humor was generally stern. 

“Sometimes the Anglo-Saxons used another plan; 
they took the goods others gathered,” he resumed. 
“At the beginning Frisians and Danes sharpened 
their battle-axes and drove the long galleys for the 
Humber and the Wash. In later days their descend¬ 
ants steered for the Spanish Main. The tradition is, 
Netherhall folk bought ships, and although they car- 



NETHERHALL 


29 


ried little abroad, they brought rich cargoes back. 
Perhaps Kit is their type; I doubt if he’s a gatherer.” 

'‘Kit does not spring from Netherhall stock,” said 
Mrs. Carson. 

“It is rather evident,” Jasper agreed. 

Alan looked up, as if he were annoyed. “All the 
same, he’s my nephew and when he’s not at the ship¬ 
yard Netherhall’s his home.” He gave Kit a friendly 
touch. “You know that, my lad!” 

“I have known it since I knew you, sir.” 

“Oh, well,” said Alan, “when people philosophize 
I get bored and I think I’ll go for a drink. Are you 
coming, Jasper?” 

Jasper remained, and by and by Mrs. Haigh and 
Mrs. Carson went to the house. 

“Alan is not a philosopher; he’s a country gentle¬ 
man,” Jasper remarked and gave Agatha a smile. 
“Mrs. Carson’s rules are not yours and Kit’s ?” 

“Ah,” said Agatha, “some get, but some must 
give.” 

“At the shipyard one does not get much,” said 
Kit. “Unless they soon promote me, I think I’ll 
start off with my fiddle, like the old minstrels.” 

“Your talent for music was your mother’s gift,” 
Jasper remarked. “The Carsons hammer iron, and 
to use the hammer hardens one. Perhaps Agatha 
has inherited something of the vein; I don’t yet 
know about you.” 

He and Agatha went off, and Evelyn knitted her 
brows. 

“You are rather puzzling, Kit, and your uncle’s 
very queer.” 


30 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


“He’s a grim old fellow, but we won’t bother 
about him,” Kit replied and put his arm round her. 

“Oh, Kit, you ought not-” said Evelyn, and 

looked about. 

Kit said nothing. He laughed and kissed Evelyn. 



CHAPTER IV 


THE CALL 

F OR a week, Kit was happy at Netherhall. 

Although he liked to joke and sometimes music 
carried him away, he had sober ambitions. Kit was 
modest, but his modesty was not exaggerated and 
he thought his efforts to some extent accounted for 
the Mariposa’s doing all her builders claimed. Then, 
although frankness was not Jasper Carson’s habit, 
he owned himself satisfied. Mrs. Carson was 
gracious, and Kit thought it important that Mrs. 
Haigh left him and Evelyn alone. 

Ledward’s arrival, however, annoyed Kit. Led- 
ward was Mrs. Carson’s relation and rather a hand¬ 
some fellow, but he began to get fat and Kit thought 
him sleek. Although he had not much money, he was 
not forced to follow an occupation, and when town 
bored him he visited at Netherhall. At Oxford he 
was famous for his scholarship and debating skill; 
his talk was interesting and he was an accomplished 
philanderer. In fact, there was the trouble, since 
Kit imagined Harry tried to interest Evelyn. For 
all that, so long as the trout fishing was good, Kit 
did not bother. Evelyn was a sport, but to wade 
31 


32 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


about angry pools and crawl under branches had not 
much charm for Harry. 

Kit and Evelyn returned one afternoon from an 
excursion to a tarn some distance off, and although 
Kit’s basket was not full his mood was buoyant. 
They had caught some trout and picnicked on the 
moor. After the noisy shipyard, the spaciousness 
and calm were bracing, and Evelyn was kinder than 
Kit had known. When they reached the gate at 
Netherhall they saw a group about the tea-table 
under a copper beech on the lawn, and Kit pulled 
out his watch. 

“Four o’clock. Did you know?” 

Evelyn did know, but she saw Kit did not. 

“When one is happily engaged, one does not 
bother about the time,” she said and smiled. “Until 
the sun got bright, the trout rose nobly.” 

“Ah,” said Kit, “I did not bother about the trout. 
So long as you were not bored, I was content to loaf 
and talk.” 

“One can talk on the lawn,” Evelyn remarked. 

“That is so. The drawback is, when one finds a 
quiet, shady spot somebody arrives. In fact, I begin 
to feel Harry, so to speak, is ubiquitous, but he has 
not much use for the climb to the tarn. Then to see 
the shadows sweep the hills and hear the wind in the 
heather was worth some effort. The day was glori¬ 
ous. Let’s go back in the morning?” 

Evelyn shook her head. “You don’t know where 
to stop, Kit, and greediness is rash. If you got an¬ 
other day, it might not be glorious. But the others 
see us, and I want some tea.” 

They crossed the grass and Kit threw down his 


THE CALL 


33 


creel by Mrs. Carson’s chair and pushed back his 
cap. His unconscious pose was firm and somewhat 
alert; his eyes sparkled joyously. Agatha thought 
him vivid; it was perhaps the proper word, but her 
calm glance got disturbed. She knew much about 
pain and suffering, and Kit could not escape man’s 
common inheritance. So far, he was marked by a 
careless happiness, but he must face trouble, and she 
wondered. Mrs. Haigh studied Evelyn, but saw 
nothing to account for Kit’s satisfaction. Evelyn’s 
look was rather tired. 

“Was the fishing good?” Mrs. Carson asked. 

“Pretty good,” said Kit, and opened his basket. 

“Troutlings! The best is hardly four ounces,” 
Ledward remarked. “You are a queer fellow, Kit. 
When there are big fish in a pool three hundred 
yards off, you climb the moor for things like these.” 

“The tarn is a long way off; perhaps that accounts 
for it. I expect you don’t know the satisfaction 
going somewhere gives. Then the peat water was 
amber and silver, the yellow bent-grass shone, and 
the moors melted into glorious blue. Sunshine, line 
and color! When you get all that, you don’t bother 
about fish.” 

“Evelyn waits for some tea, and you might give 
me your cup,” said Mrs. Carson. “A telegram for 
you arrived two or three hours ago. Perhaps you 
ought to see what it is about.” 

Kit sat down and when he tore open the envelope 
he frowned. 

“They want me at the office. I must report to 
Colvin, the manager, at ten o’clock in the morning, 


34 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


and he does not apologize for bothering me. If I 
dared refuse, I wouldn’t go.” 

*‘Perhaps they want you to design a liner,” Led- 
ward remarked. 

“The telegram does not indicate anything like 
that, but the fellow states he expects me to be there. 
Politeness would cost an extra twopence; they’re a 
parsimonious lot,” said Kit, and turned to Mrs. Car- 
son. “Well, I suppose I must get the evening train. 
May I use the car?” 

Mrs. Carson agreed, and soon afterwards Kit 
drove to the station. When he reached the town at 
the river mouth, he pulled out his watch, and after 
pondering for a few moments, started for Blake’s 
flat. 

The night was hot, shipyard and steel works 
smoke floated across the grimy houses, and the street 
was crowded. After the spacious moors and the 
calm at Netherhall, the noisy traffic jarred; Kit 
shrank from the smell of stale fish by the dark shops, 
and when he was stopped by the crowd coming from 
a glittering music hall he frowned. He had not 
bothered about things like that before, but he ad¬ 
mitted he was annoyed. His glorious day had not 
ended as he had thought, and the manager’s call was 
ominous. Blake, however, might know something 
about it, and Kit pushed savagely through the noisy 
groups that blocked the pavement. 

When he got to the flat, Blake was not at home. 
Mrs. Blake said he had gone to a seaport where a 
dredger the company had built was at work. She 
forced Kit to stay for supper and he remarked that 
her appetite was not good. She pushed the plates 


THE CALL 


35 


about nervously, and he thought her highly strung. 
When the meal was over, she rested her arms on the 
table and with something of an effort faced Kit. 

“Now we must talk about the telegram. You 
don’t know what Colvin wants?” 

“I’m altogether in the dark,” Kit replied. 

Mrs. Blake’s glance was searching, but he knew 
she did not doubt him. 

“Then, I can give you some light. The opposition 
boat has run her trial and has beaten yours. She is 
half a knot faster, but that is not all. She gets up 
steam in a shorter time.” 

“It’s awkward,” said Kit, and frowned, for the 
news disturbed him. “Fast steaming’s important, 
but I’m puzzled. Our boiler’s famous, and we 
reckoned we had adapted it to the job. Robbins 
declared it would beat the other.” 

“Perhaps he didn’t boast. Mr. Colvin reckons 
the other people’s draftsman knew the improvements 
you had made, and used your plans.” 

“By George!” said Kit, and clenched his fist. “But 
it’s impossible! [We locked up the plans, and nobody 
but men we trust saw the boiler in the erecting shop.” 

“You don’t yet see!” said Mrs. Blake in a 
trembling voice. “Colvin claims somebody at the 
drawing office copied the plans.” 

“His notion’s ridiculous!” Kit declared, with a 
laugh, although the laugh was forced. “Colvin ought 
to know a respectable shipbuilding company doesn’t 
bribe another’s servants. Besides, he ought to know 
nobody at the office would take a bribe.” 

“All the same, he’s convinced your competitors got 


36 


CARSON OF RED .RIVER 


the plans. Tom was in his private room for half 
an hour. Colvin was furious-” 

Kit set his mouth. The thing was awkward, but 
he saw Mabel waited and he felt she expected him to 
be frank. 

“One sympathizes with Colvin, but he’s a fool. 
Old Robbins is altogether trustworthy and was at 
the yard when the company was floated. If we leave 
him out, only Tom and I could get at the draw¬ 
ings.” 

“Colvin argued like that, Kit. There’s the 
trouble!” 

“Now I do see,” said Kit, in a hoarse voice, and 
looked at Mabel hard. 

Her face got red, and then her color went. Kit 
thought she blushed for her husband, and he knew 
her afraid. She pulled straight the tablecloth and 
pushed back a plate. Her pose was stiff but her 
hands shook. 

“Only you and Tom,” she said. “It’s rather 
horrible, Kit!” 

For a minute or two Kit was quiet and he looked 
about the room. Although the furniture and orna¬ 
ments were cheap, they had cost stern self-denial. 
Mabel loved her home and to let it go would hurt, 
but if Blake were forced to leave the office, they could 
not stay at the flat. Tom would not get another 
post and.to reckon on his invention’s supporting him 
was rash. Kit saw Mabel doubted Tom, but although 
he thought her ashamed, she was somehow resolute. 
Kit was sorry for her and humiliated for his friend. 

Brooding unhappily, he saw a fresh light, and 
thought he could account for Mabel’s resolution. In 



THE CALL 


37 


fact, he wondered whether he had not been very dull. 
Perhaps she was entitled to think for her husband; 
but suppose she soon must think for another? A 
woman’s instinct was to fight for her child. Un¬ 
consciously he looked up. Mrs. Blake blushed and 
turned her head, and he knew his supposition ac¬ 
curate. Kit’s mouth got very tight. If the company 
had been cheated, Mabel must not pay. 

“When will Tom be back?” he inquired. 

Mrs. Blake said she did not expect him for two 
or three days; the dredger’s machinery did not work 
properly, and Tom and a foreman must find out the 
defect. Kit got up, and although the effort was 
hard, he smiled. 

“Since Colvin gave Tom an important job, he 
obviously does not think he copied the plans. When 
he knew our boat was beaten he got savage and felt 
he must hit out, but he’s not a bad sort, and when I 
see him in the morning I expect to put all straight. 
Anyhow, you mustn’t bother. Colvin will soon ad¬ 
mit Tom is not the man.” 

Mrs. Blake gave him her hand, hesitated for a 
moment, and then let him go. The door shut, but 
the panels were thin, and Kit, in the passage, heard 
uneven steps and a chair crack. Then a plate jarred 
and he knew Mrs. Blake had thrown herself down in 
the chair and stretched her arms across the table. 
Kit pictured her bent head and her slack body. 
Sometimes perhaps he indulged his imagination, but 
he knew the picture accurate, and his look got stern. 

When he reached his lodgings he lighted his pipe 
and reflected with grim humor that one ought not 
to talk about a glorious day until the day was gone. 


38 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


All the same, it was not important, and he pondered 
moodily. To begin with, Blake had paid his debt 
and stated he was sorry he had not taken his model 
to Allinson before. Moreover, the money he gave 
Kit had melted, and Kit imagined his relations at 
Netherhall had remarked his extravagance. 

Tom stayed late at the office, and sometimes Kit 
went across to the boiler shop. Then somebody left 
an eraser on Kit’s drawing-board, and the eraser 
was Tom’s. Kit recaptured other incidents he now 
thought significant, and weighing the evidence care¬ 
fully, knew his friend condemned. The trouble was, 
Tom’s wife must bear his punishment. Their rela¬ 
tions were poor and shipbuilding was very slack. 
Tom would not get another post and his invention 
might carry him nowhere. If the engine worked, 
somebody would use his model, and Tom and Allin¬ 
son must enforce their claims. A dispute about a 
patent was a slow and expensive business. Then 
before shipbuilders tried the machine some time must 

go- 

Kit refused to picture Mabel and her baby in the 
streets. Yet the company had been cheated, and 
somebody must pay. He was not going to think 
about his relations; they must take the knock, but it 
looked as if he had not thought much for Evelyn. 
Well, it was done with. He had promised to put all 
straight, and his word went. Evelyn knew him, and 
he had not thought they could marry for some time. 
He was young, and if he could not get a post in 
England, he must emigrate. In the Dominions an 
engineer was a useful man. 


THE CALL 


39 


Kit knocked out his pipe, stretched his arms as 
if he were tired, and resolved to go to bed. Now 
he thought about it, he was tired, and his brain was 
dull, but he began to see his line, and that was some¬ 
thing. He went to bed and was soon asleep. 



CHAPTER V 


KIT PLAYS UP 

A T ten o’clock in the morning, Kit went quietly 
into the manager’s office. Perhaps it was 
strange, for until he talked to Mrs. Blake he had 
not faced a crisis, but he was calm. His rather boy¬ 
ish carelessness had vanished; his glance was steady 
and his step firm. 

The chair Colvin gave him faced the window. 
Kit had expected something like that, and had 
thought to be embarrassed, but he was not. Mere¬ 
dith, the director who had talked to him about Jasper 
Carson, Colvin and Robbins, the head draftsman, 
occupied chairs at the table. Kit waited. 

He had undertaken to see Mrs. Blake out, and he 
meant to do so, but the game was intricate. To clear 
Blake was all he wanted; he was not forced to en¬ 
tangle himself. To convict him was the company’s 
business. 

For a moment or two he studied the others. 
Robbins was rather embarrassed, the manager’s look 
was grim, and Meredith, in the shadow, rested his 
face on his hand. Kit thought the old fellow’s arriv¬ 
ing at ten o’clock significant. Although it looked as 
40 


KIT PLAYS UP 41 

if Colvin wanted a victim, Kit imagined Meredith 
would be just. 

“You are punctual, Carson. I don’t know if I 
altogether expected you,” Colvin remarked, mean¬ 
ingly. 

Meredith looked up, as if he did not approve, and 
Kit’s eyes sparkled. 

“My habit is to be punctual, sir.” 

“I don’t know an occasion when Carson was not 
up to time,” said Robbins, and Kit thought him glad 
to urge something in his favor. 

“Very well,” Colvin resumed, fixing his eyes on 
Kit. “I expect you know why I called you to the 
office?” 

“Until I saw Mrs. Blake, I did not know.” 

“I doubt if Mrs. Blake was entitled to inform 
you,” Colvin rejoined. “Well, when we got to work 
at the Mariposa's boiler, you approved the first plan. 
In fact, you claimed the alterations Mr. Robbins 
sketched would not give as good results?” 

“That is so,” said Kit, and Colvin turned to the 
others, as if he wanted them to note Kit’s agreement. 

“It looks as if your claim was justified. Mrs. 
Blake, no doubt, told you our competitors’ boat has 
beaten the Mariposa and they used our boiler; but 
the pattern was the modified pattern we experimented 
with in the original plan. The plan you preferred!” 

Kit saw where the other led. Colvin plainly meant 
to make him accountable. 

“I suppose you have grounds to imagine the people 
did use our pattern, sir?” 

“Our grounds are very good,” said Colvin, dryly. 
“All our competitors did not use was a fitting we 


42 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


patented. In fact, we are satisfied they got our 

plans-” He stopped and giving Kit a steady 

glance, resumed: “How did they get the plans ?” 

“I cannot tell you, sir.” 

“Do you imply that you’re unable ? Or that you’re 
not willing?” 

Kit did not hesitate. When he arrived at the 
office, he saw his line, and it did not lead to his 
declaring he had cheated. 

“I don’t know ” he said quietly. 

Robbins gave him a reproachful glance. “You 
ought to help us, Carson. Our experiments cost 
the company much, and we must know whom we 
can trust. Very well; only you and Blake could get 
at the plans, and to make the drawings and calcu¬ 
lations was your business. Don’t you see you must 
be frank?” 

“The business was mine,” Kit agreed. “When I 
stopped work I locked the drawings in the cup¬ 
board.” 

“Sometimes Blake was late at the office. When 
you were there was he about?” 

“Perhaps three or four times,” said Kit. “All 
the same, he was not at my table; his is across the 
floor.” 

“Was he at your table in the daytime?” 

“So far as I remember, not when I was engaged 
on the boiler drawings. Besides, when the others 
were at work he could not make notes and copies.” 

“I expect you see your clearing Blake implicates 
yourself?” Colvin remarked. 

For a moment or two Kit was quiet. He knew 
Meredith studied him and Meredith knew Jasper 



IIT PLAYS UP 


43 


Carson. Colv vas resolved to punish somebody, 
but he had nxe< n Kit only because he thought him 
the proper man n fact, Kit imagined all were will¬ 
ing for him vindicate himself. Well, Blake’s 
eraser was pocket, and when he went to the 
boiler shop <ne 'ening and Tom was at the office 
he left his ra lg-board on the table. When he 
came back, he herd steps, hurried steps he thought; 
but he was not ng to talk about it. He had stated 
he did not sell o plans. 

“Someth that is evident, sir,” he said to 

Colvin. 

“You admit was awkward, if not impossible, 
for Blake to mae a copy,” Meredith remarked. 
“Since you :e it implies, your frankness carries 
weight; and we ant to be fair. Do you urge noth¬ 
ing for yourself? 

“There’s noth g for me to urge, sir. I have stated 
I didn’t cheat yo. That’s all.” 

Colvin frown . “Very well, we must weigh the 
evidence we ha' 3 r ot, but you have not helped us 
much.” He lc red at Meredith, and resumed: 
“When we see th line we ought to take we will let 
you know.” 

Kit went out, nd when he went through the 
office, looked stnght in front and said nothing to 
the clerks. In t- ard hammers beat and the rivet¬ 
ers’ forges glim: -red among the ships. Kit was 
keen about shipb ilding and had been happy at the 
yard; and he stor ed for a moment in front of the 
wicket in the bir oors. He had known ambition 
and had thought 1 make his mark, but he felt when 
the wicket shut : would shut him out for good. 



44 CARSON OF RED RIVER 

Mechanically he turned the handle and was in the 
street behind the high wall. 

His train did not start for some time, and he went 
to Blake’s flat. Mrs. Blake was at home; he knew 
* she expected him, and he sat down on a little shabby 
couch. Now the strain was gone he was dull and 
slack. Mrs. Blake leaned against the table and he 
thought she trembled. 

‘‘Well?” she said. 

Kit smiled. “All’s straight and my news is good. 
Colvin and Meredith are satisfied Tom didn’t copy 
the drawings.” 

“You satisfied them?” said Mrs. Blake in a hoarse 
voice. “Oh, Kit!” 

“I wasn’t forced to use much argument. The job 
was mine, and Tom had nothing to do with the 
boiler.” 

“But you didn’t admit you sold the plans?” 

“I did not,” said Kit. “All I wanted was for 
Colvin to see he mustn’t suspect Tom. Who did 
steal the plans is another thing, and my business is 
not to find out. If Colvin solves the puzzle, he’s 
cleverer than I thought-” 

He stopped, for although he had played up, his 
part was hard. It looked as if Mabel doubted Tom, 
but Kit did not really know. Anyhow, she would 
not let her husband down and he agreed that she 
ought not. 

“But suppose Colvin thinks you the man? He’d 
refuse to take you back,” she said. 

Kit smiled, and his smile was easier, for he was 
now on ground he knew. 

“After all, to leave the yard would not bother me 



KIT PLAYS UP 


45 


much. Shipbuilding gets monotonous and perhaps 
I have a talent for music. Anyhow, I like to play 
the fiddle, and when I’m in the vein, I’m not a bad 
clown. Labor’s dreary and people like a joke and a 
merry tale; sometimes they reward the joker. Well, 
I think I’ll copy the old minstrels and take the road 
with my pack and lute.” 

“To let a good post go is not a joke,” said Mrs. 
Blake. “You must think soberly!” 

“If Colvin has no more use for me, thinking won’t 
help, and one can be sober when one is old. Then, 
if a musician’s not foolishly modest he need not 
starve. A pal of mine in America got a good push 
off because he could play in the band. The town 
didn’t pay the bandsmen, but somebody found them 
soft jobs. A soft job and leisure to study the drum 
or the cornet is about my mark.” 

Mrs. Blake smiled. When Kit joked one was 
forced to smile, but tears were near her eyes and her 
hands were not still. 

“Oh, Kit!” she said, “your pluck is very fine!” 

“I wonder-” said Kit. “On the whole, I think 

I’d sooner trust my luck. But I mustn’t philoso¬ 
phize; I must get my train.” 

Mrs. Blake gave him his hat and stopped for a 
moment at the door. 

“Evelyn is fortunate. You are stanch and true 
as the steel you used,” she said, and kissing Kit, 
gently pushed him out. 

When the train started, Kit, in a third-class smok¬ 
ing compartment, speculated about Mrs. Blake. 
She was a very good sort and her kiss had braced 
him. He thought she knew much, and perhaps she 



46 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


knew all. Mabel was not shabby, but she was a 
woman, and her code was a woman’s code. Her 
proper part was to stick to her husband and see him 
out; Kit thought she would not shrink. 

Then he mused about Evelyn. Mabel declared she 
was fortunate but Kit doubted. If Colvin did not 
take him back, Evelyn would get a nasty knock. 
All the same, they were young, and Evelyn had 
known Jasper would probably send him to a Can¬ 
adian engineering works. Now he might be forced 
to start for Canada sooner than they had thought, 
but since Evelyn knew he must go, it was perhaps 
not important. Kit fixed on Canada because the Car- 
sons went to the Dominion, although he did no* 
think he would take Jasper’s help. 

In the meantime, he resolved to say nothing. He 
did not yet know if Colvin meant to dismiss him. 
After all, he thought the manager saw it was possible 
somebody at the boiler shop had given the company’s 
competitors a useful hint, and Kit reckoned on his 
making cautious inquiries about the workmen. On 
the whole, he imagined some days might go before 
Colvin saw his line, and he might admit that he was 
baffled. Kit was not hopeful, but there was no use 
in brooding. 

When he arrived at Netherhall the afternoon was 
hot and Mrs. Carson and the others were on the 
shady terrace; but for Kit to see Evelyn was not 
about was some relief. 

“You are soon back,” Alan Carson remarked with 
a friendly smile. “I was afraid the manager might 
cut short your holiday.” 


KIT PLAYS UP 47 

“I may not get as long as I expected; I don’t 
know yet,” said Kit, and Mrs. Carson looked up. 

Kit’s voice was careless, but she thought careless¬ 
ness cost him something, and he frowned. Mrs. 
Carson knew he was not the joyous young fellow 
who started for the shipyard the evening before, but 
she must not yet indulge her curiosity. Then Led- 
ward gave Kit an interested glance. 

“Well, did you get a fresh important job?” 

“I did not,” Kit replied rather grimly, for he 
sensed a sneer. “In fact, there was some trouble at 

the yard-” He turned to Mrs. Carson. “Where 

is Uncle Jasper?” 

Mrs. Carson said Jasper was called away by a 
telegram, and Kit went to his room. He did not 
want to talk, and when tea was served he would 
meet Evelyn. Before he did so he must brace up, 
and to brace up was rather hard. If the company 
had no use for him, he ought perhaps to let Evelyn 
go. He frankly dared not think about it, and he 
tried to picture his relations’ line. 

Alan Carson was kind and might sympathize; he 
would know Kit had not cheated the shipyard com¬ 
pany, but Mrs. Carson ruled her husband. She was 
old-fashioned, parsimonious and conventional, and 
Kit imagined she had not from the beginning ap¬ 
proved his making Netherhall his home. At all 
events, if he went to Canada, she would be resigned. 
Her favorite was Harry Led ward. 

Jasper was older than Alan, and Kit had thought 
he acknowledged his nephew’s claim, but he was 
inscrutable and marked by baffling humor. His word 



48 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


went, and people reckoned Jasper rich. Kit did not 
see his line, but he thought he saw Mrs. Haigh’s. 

Kit knew her frugal, calculating and ambitious. 
In fact, he had thought her allowing him to cultivate 
Evelyn strange. If he lost his post, he was per¬ 
suaded she would force her daughter to break her 
conditional engagement, and Evelyn dared not rebel. 
Mrs. Haigh was firm. On the whole, Kit admitted 
she would be justified and he must agree. 

He got up and went to the window. A servant 
carried tea to a table at a shady spot and he must 
go down. 


CHAPTER VI 


KIT TAKES A KNOCK 

A LTHOUGH much rain falls at Netherdale, 
three or four days after Kit’s return were fine, 
and he seized all the opportunity for enjoyment the 
good weather gave. When the west wind curled the 
tarn Evelyn and he went fishing; when the water 
shone like glass and motionless silver clouds dotted 
the tranquil sky they picnicked in the heather, and 
Kit felt he got nearer Evelyn than he had yet got. 
Sometimes she had baffled him, and he sensed a re¬ 
serve he could not break. Now she was kind and 
frank. 

For all that, he knew his mood was reckless and 
he doubted if he were honest. He felt like a gambler 
betting on a chance he could not estimate; he risked 
much, and if he lost he must pay. Moreover, for 
him to lose might cost Evelyn something; but he felt 
she would brace up. Kit knew she was not altogether 
romantic; he had remarked in her a shrewdly prac¬ 
tical vein. Anyhow, the splendid days were going, 
and he resolved to take all they gave. 

In fine weather, tea was served on the lawn at 
Netherhall, and Kit one afternoon joined the group 
round the table under a tree. The soft patter of the 
49 



50 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


leaves was soothing and one heard the river splash. 
Kit, sitting on a mossy bank, languidly looked about. 
Evelyn’s dress and shady hat were white, but her 
hair was black. Kit saw her face in profile and 
thought it cut the dark green background like a deli¬ 
cate cameo. His sister faced him; Agatha’s skin 
was white and her clothes were blue. One remarked 
her calm and quiet dignity. Mrs. Carson’s thin face 
was rather pinched, and her clothes were old-fash¬ 
ioned, but somehow one knew her important. Alan 
Carson’s red face harmonized with his rough, belted 
coat and knickerbockers. He was obviously a 
country gentleman; one knew that was all. Jasper 
and Ledward were in the shadow, and Kit thought 
the old fellow exotic; his was another type. 

In the background, flower borders, smooth grass, 
pastures, and shady woods rolled down the valley 
to a blue and indistinct sweep of plain. Kit felt 
the group and the landscape harmonized. The peo¬ 
ple were the sort of people one reckoned to meet at 
an old-fashioned country house. All but Jasper were 
marked by a cultivated serenity, and the serenity had 
charm. Yet Kit knew they were not his sort, and he 
doubted if they were Jasper’s. On a summer holi¬ 
day he liked to be at Netherhall, but his business was 
where men sweated by the furnaces and engines 
throbbed. Then perhaps it was significant that 
Jasper’s chair was outside the circle. 

“You were not back for lunch, Kit,” said Mrs. 
Carson. “Were you fishing?” 

“The water was low and I went across the moor 
to Swinside Pike. At the cairn I loafed and smoked. 
The heather was soft, the moor was red and the 


KIT TAKES A KNOCK 


51 


sky was very blue. In the distance the sea shone and 
I thought about the shipyard. On the whole, I was 
glad it was a long way off.” 

“But you are a shipbuilder and must soon go 
back.” 

Kit smiled. “You don’t indulge me much! At 
the cairn I tried to see myself ruling an estate like 
Netherhall, and the picture was attractive. After 
the shipyard, to get up when I wanted and go shoot¬ 
ing would be something fresh.” 

“A landlord’s main occupation is to meet his bills,” 
Alan Carson remarked. “The politicians sacrifice 
us to the manufacturers. They want cheap food and 
low wages. Our part’s to pay the taxes.” 

“Food is not cheap,” said Jasper. “You’re mo¬ 
nopolists, and although you ought to pay, you don’t 
pay all you ought. When iron goes up, smelting 
companies build new furnaces and increased produc¬ 
tion cuts the price. When corn goes up you can’t 
enlarge your farms; at all events, you don’t. You’d 
like to stop competition and take your profit.” He 
turned and gave Kit a smile. “You’re not the land¬ 
lord type and your chance of getting an estate is 
not good. It looks as if you must stick to your 
proper business.” 

“I must try, sir, but that’s another thing. Drafts¬ 
men are rather numerous and shipbuilding is slack. 
Suppose the company lets me down? Do you think 
you could get me a Canadian post?” 

“It’s possible. Do you expect the company to let 
you down ?” 

“One doesn’t know when one’s luck may turn. 


52 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


Then sometimes I’m ambitious, and ambitious Car- 
sons go to Canada.” 

“I don’t think Kit bothers where he goes. So 
long as he starts, he’s satisfied,” Evelyn remarked. 

“Oh, well,” said Kit, rather moodily, “if you’re 
resigned to go when you’re forced to go, it’s some¬ 
thing.” 

Mrs. Haigh gave him a keen glance, and began to 
talk, but Kit was quiet. The afternoon was hot and 
one got languid. Moreover, the post would soon 
arrive, and he was anxious. 

By and by a servant carrying some letters crossed 
the grass, and Mrs. Carson gave Kit an envelope. 
He knew the company’s stamp, and when he pulled 
out the letter his hand shook. Then for a few 
moments he looked straight in front. 

“Have the shipyard people called you back?” 
Ledward inquired, and picked up a slip of paper. 
“You dropped something; it looks like a check.” 

“Thanks!” said Kit, and pushing the crumpled 
check into his pocket, turned to the others. “I’m 
not going back. The letter states the directors have 
no more use for me.” 

Although his heart beat he was cool. He saw 
the blood come to Evelyn’s skin, and then she turned 
her head. Agatha’s glance was steady, and Kit knew 
her stanch. He thought Mrs. Haigh pondered; Mrs. 
Carson was frankly annoyed. 

“You’re rather theatrical, Kit, but perhaps you’d 
like to tell us something more,” said Jasper, and 
beckoned Alan. “Let’s go for a smoke.” 

They crossed the grass to another bench, and Kit 
leaned against a tree a few yards off. Alan awk- 


KIT TAKES A KNOCK 


53 


wardly stuffed his pipe, and Kit saw he was dis¬ 
turbed. Jasper’s look was inscrutable, and he gave 
Kit a cigarette. Kit gave him the letter, and Jasper 
nodded. 

“The secretary knows the rules. The company 
does not require your services and he encloses a 
check for a month’s pay! Well, the .communication 
does not carry us very far.” 

“There’s his check!” said Kit, and tore the form. 
“Perhaps I’m extravagant, but I don’t see myself 
using their money.” 

“Sometimes to let yourself go is expensive,” 
Jasper remarked. “However, I imagined you were 
going to give us your confidence.” 

Kit frowned and his pose got stiff. The lines of 
his athletic body were youthful, but he faced the 
others steadily and his look was stern. Alan was 
puzzled. He knew Kit’s cheerful carelessness, and 
had thought to see him embarrassed, but the lad 
was marked by something of Jasper’s calm. In 
fact, he looked like Jasper. Kit narrated his inter¬ 
view with Colvin and Meredith. He saw Jasper was 
interested, but that was all, and when he stopped 
the old fellow lighted a cigarette. 

“Since it looks as if the company’s competitors 
copied the boiler, I rather think Colvin’s annoyance 
is logical. You declared you had nothing to do with 
it?” 

“That is so, sir. I was some time at the yard, 
and I thought Colvin ought to know me.” 

“A big company’s manager does not take much 
for granted. You were content with a plain denial? 
You did not try to indicate who was accountable?” 


54 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 

Kit hesitated. He had said nothing about Blake 
and did not mean to do so, but Jasper was very 
keen, and Kit saw he noted his hesitation. 

“I don’t know, sir. Besides, it’s possible the plans 
were not copied.” 

“Colvin does not seem to doubt,” said Jasper 
dryly. “You were rather generous not long since!” 

“It looks as if I were rash; but I didn’t reckon on 
your imagining I used money I ought not have.” 

“I imagined others might argue that a draftsman’s 
pay was small,” Jasper rejoined, and gave Alan an 
ironical smile. “You agree it’s possible?” 

Alan’s face got red, for he knew Mrs. Carson 
would argue like that. 

“I’d bet all I’ve got on Kit’s honesty!” 

“Thank you,” said Kit, and gave him a grateful 
look. 

“Well, I expect you have told us all you think it 
useful for us to know,” Jasper remarked with some 
dryness. “In the morning I start for a steelworks 
on the coast, and if you like I’ll look up Meredith. 
I might induce him to make a fresh inquiry.” 

Kit pondered. He had declared his innocence, 
and since he had engaged to see Mabel out, he must 
be satisfied. A fresh inquiry might put Colvin on 
Blake’s track. He dared not risk it, but the strain 
was getting hard, and he was bothered by Jasper’s 
searching glance. 

“If you want to see Meredith, I am willing; but 
if he agreed to take me back, I would not go.” 

“Then I suppose you have a plan?” 

“That is so,” said Kit, and turned to Alan. “You 


KIT TAKES A KNOCK 55 

are kind and trust me, but others will not, and I 
mustn’t stay at Netherhall.” 

“Netherhall’s your home, Kit. You must stay 
here until you get a post.” 

Jasper looked up. “You’re stanch, Alan, but 
perhaps you’re rash. Then I doubt if Kit would get 
a post in England.” 

“I shall not try,” said Kit. “As soon as I can 
find out about a boat, I’ll start for Montreal.” 

“Your plan’s a good one,” Jasper agreed. “I 
expect my engineering friends in the Dominion 
would help-” 

“You mustn’t ask them, sir. In the circumstances, 
all I want is for my relations to leave me alone.” 

Jasper shrugged. “Very well. I like your pluck.” 

“My pluck’s not all you think,” said Kit and, 
turning to Alan, smiled, a rather dreary smile. “I 
don’t dare face the others, and you might inform 
my aunt. Then I think Mrs. Haigh ought to know.” 

He went to the house. By and by he must en¬ 
lighten Evelyn, but so long as the others were about 
he could not talk to her, and he frankly shrank from 
the interview. Although he could take a knock, to 
hurt Evelyn was another thing. 

Alan returned to the tea-table. When he arrived 
Evelyn and Agatha were gone and Ledward went 
off. As a rule Ledward used some tact. Alan was 
embarrassed, and he awkwardly narrated all he 
knew. In the meantime, Mrs. Haigh saw Jasper in 
the shady path; he went slowly and his brows^ were 
knit. Mrs. Haigh was keen, and she had some 
grounds to think the grim old fellow would support 
his nephew. For all that, she imagined Kit and 



56 CARSON OF RED RIVER 

the others doubted. Jasper Carson was rather baf¬ 
fling. 

“I admit I am not very much surprised/' Mrs. 
Carson remarked when her husband stopped. “Since 
Kit was called to the offlce, he has been restless and 
moody, and I thought him anxious. Then, al¬ 
though he jokes about his poverty, his presents were 
extravagant. One speculated where he got the 
sum-” 

“Do you imply my nephew took a bribe to cheat 
his employers ?” Alan asked. 

Mrs. Carson smiled, a rather scornful smile. She 
was jealous, and she had not wanted Kit at Nether- 
hall. 

“The company was cheated; but perhaps Kit has 
accounted for his extravagance?” 

“He got better pay.” 

“I imagine the company pays when the pay is 
earned, and Kit’s money melts.” 

Mrs. Haigh looked up. She acknowledged Mrs. 
Carson’s importance, but she had pondered, and she 
saw her part. 

“One must not condemn Kit on the evidence we 
have,” she said. “Besides, he declares he is inno¬ 
cent, and his word goes. I am persuaded the com¬ 
pany is not just, and I feel Kit’s friends ought to 
support him.” 

“If Kit will take my support, it’s his,” said Alan 
firmly. 

Mrs. Carson colored and looked at Mrs. Haigh 
with annoyed surprise. Mrs. Haigh got up and 
smiled. 

“Frankness has some advantages, and now you 



KIT TAKES A KNOCK 


57 


know my point of view. But Evelyn has gone, 
and I expect you and Mr. Carson have much to talk 
about.” 

She went off, and Mrs. Carson mused. 

“I wonder-” she said. “All the same, if 

Marion allows Evelyn to be entagled, she is a fool.” 

Some time afterwards, Agatha came to Kit's 
room. Kit stood by the window, and when he 
turned his head she saw his forehead was wrinkled 
and his mouth was tight. Agatha gave him a sym¬ 
pathetic glance. 

“Of course, you did not sell the plans; but I 
suppose you cannot clear yourself?” she said. 

“There is no use in trying. Colvin's determined 
to punish somebody, and I admit it looks as if he 
had the proper man.” 

“You have not yet told Evelyn. Are you afraid?” 

Kit frowned. He knew Agatha did not want to 
hurt him, and as a rule she had an object for her 
remarks. Yet she did hurt. Now he was broken 
and done for, he acknowledged Evelyn was not for 
him, but he hated to think his disgrace would daunt 
her. 

“Evelyn is ruled by Mrs. Haigh, and her line is 
plain,” he replied. - 

“Yours is plain, Kit.” 

“My part's the conventional part, and I must play 
up. All the same, I see another; to face the risks 
and take the plunge. However, there’s no use in 
talking. I must think for Evelyn-” 

“Sometimes a rash plunge pays; but I doubt if 
it would pay with Evelyn. Evelyn is a charming 






58 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


girl, but she is not the sort to run much risk. You 
must give her up, Kit.” 

‘Til try,” said Kit. H It’s going to be hard.” 

Agatha touched him gently. “For you to see you 
were selfish and your selfishness cost Evelyn much 
would be harder. You must take the knock. There 
is no other plan.” 

She went off, and Kit brooded. He thought 
Agatha did not urge him to be generous because, 
in the circumstances, generosity, so to speak, was 
conventional. Agatha did not follow old-fashioned 
rules, and she was not daunted by a risk. She 
wanted him to give up Evelyn, but not because 
others might think he ought. Agatha thought he 
ought. Well, Kit agreed, and he tried for resigna¬ 
tion. 


CHAPTER VII 


EVELYN CONQUERS 

f T'HE red sunset shone behind the trees and the 
light was going. A lamp burned in Mrs. 
Haigh’s drawing-room, and Kit, at the gate, smelt 
flowers and freshly mown grass. He had borne 
some strain, and now he must fight his hardest 
fight; he went slowly up the path. 

In the east the sunset touched the moor’s high 
top; the lower slopes were dusky blue. Across the 
clipped hedge the river shone with faint reflections 
and brawled across the stones. In the hedge was a 
nook and an old stone bench where Evelyn and Kit 
had talked on languid summer afternoons. 

Kit had been happy in the garden, and although 
he was young he had felt something of its tranquil 
charm. Tranquillity, however, was not for him, and 
the happy days were gone. Soon he must go down 
the path, and he would not come back. 

A white figure crossed the shadowy terrace and 
waved from the steps. Kit knew Evelyn watched 
for him, and when he advanced his heart beat. 
Evelyn put her hand on his arm and steered him to 
the bench. Kit stopped by the clipped hedge and 
59 


60 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


waited. All was quiet, and only the faint beam from 
the window marked the house. 

“I know all, Kit,” said Evelyn. “Alan Carson 
told mother.” 

Kit said nothing. Since Alan had enlightened 
Mrs. Haigh, he thought her allowing Evelyn to join 
him in the garden strange. He did not doubt she 
knew where her daughter went. 

“The shipyard people are a shabby, unjust lot,” 
Evelyn resumed. “Their thinking you dishonest is 
ridiculous. Fm glad you have done with them.” 

“I don't know if it’s much comfort,” Kit re¬ 
marked with some dryness, for he dared not indulge 
the thrill he got. “Since Colvin has turned me down 
there's not much use in my trying for a post at 
another yard.” 

“But might not the company’s competitors-?” 

“No!” said Kit firmly. “If they employed me 
they’d expect to get some useful hints about the 
others’ tools and models. Besides, it would look as 
if I had cheated and had got my reward.” 

“Oh, well, you’re rather noble, but I’d like Colvin 
to pay. He has made you suffer, and I hate the 
fellow. But you musn’t own you’re beaten. .We’ll 
find a way out.” 

Kit hesitated. As a rule Evelyn maintained a 
baffling reserve. Now she talked as if he were her 
acknowledged lover and he got a hint of passion. 
Her voice trembled, and although the light was going 
he saw her color was high. Well, she was a girl, 
and for her sake he must be firm. 

“In England I’m done for. Perhaps I could get 



EVELYN CONQUERS 61 

a Canadian engagement; I mean to see if it’s pos¬ 
sible.” 

“But if you go to Canada you may stay long.” 

“I may stay for good,” said Kit drearily. “My 
relations think IVe humiliated them, and I can’t 
take their help. In fact, but for Alan I doubt if 
they’re keen to help. Then Alan’s money is his 
wife’s, and Mrs. Carson will force him to leave me 
alone. She has, of course, some grounds-” 

“When you’re romantic I like you better,” 
Evelyn remarked. “Not long ago you wanted to 
take the road and play the lute. Perhaps you didn’t 
know you moved me then, but I was moved. Now 
you’re horribly practical-” 

Kit smiled, but his smile was forced. The fight 
was harder because he tried to observe rules that 
were not his. His habit was to trust his luck and 
follow joyous adventure. Yet all adventure was 
not joyous, and Evelyn had not known poverty. 

“Sometimes one’s forced to ponder,” he rejoined. 
“I expect the minstrel’s road is rocky, and when 
your road is awkward you ought to go alone.” 

“Ah, you’re not logical. One can help another, 
and perhaps a woman’s help is worth more than 
you think. Would you sooner start alone, Kit?” 

“If I thought for myself, I’d carry you off. We’d 
steal away to Liverpool and sail by the first boat; 
but I’m not a fool. I don’t see you going third- 
class, and I’d hate to see you use a room in a crowded 
tenement house.”. 

“Do you think poor food and a shabby room very 
important?” Evelyn asked, and came near Kit. “Do 
you think I know nothing about frugality?” 





62 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


“The frugality your mother uses is not hard to 
bear,” said Kit, and indicated the beautiful garden. 
“There’s your proper background: spaciousness and 
calm.” 

“I wonder-” said Evelyn quietly. “Perhaps 

you’re not selfish, but it looks as if you did not want 
me very much.” 

Kit tried to be firm. He felt he took the proper 
course, and he had expected Evelyn to agree. 

“You are all I want, but you mustn’t pay for my 
selfishness. I’m broken and done for. Nobody in 
England would employ me-” 

“But you will get a post in Canada. You have 
pluck and talent, and your luck will turn. I’m not 
afraid. Dare you risk it, Kit?” 

“One must get to Canada, and then look for a 
post. All I’ve got is thirty pounds.” 

“I think I’ve got five pounds,” said Evelyn, and 
began to laugh, a strange, dreary laugh. “If it 
wasn’t tragic, it would be humorous! But you 
mustn’t steal off and leave me. I’m not hard and 
firm like Agatha; I hate to be alone. If I let you 
go, you must solemnly promise-” 

Her hoarse, trembling voice jarred Kit, and he 
put his arm round her. “Stop!” he said. “Your 
mother will hear you. Try for calm!” 

Evelyn leaned against him and her body went 
slack. Kit was flesh and blood, and he kissed her 
and knew himself conquered. For a few moments 
she held him fast and then gently pushed him back. 

“I’m not afraid, my dear; but if I cannot go with 
you, I’ll wait until you send for me,” she said, and 



EVELYN CONQUERS 63 

now her voice was level. “You will mend your for¬ 
tunes, Kit, and perhaps it won’t be very long-” 

“To begin with, I must talk to Mrs. Haigh. I 
doubt if she’ll consent.” 

“Ah,” said Evelyn, “you don’t yet know Mother.” 

Kit admitted he had not know Evelyn, and he 
was ashamed. She was splendidly loyal and although 
he had not thought her passionate she was passionate. 
Anyhow she had banished his scruples and given 
him confidence. For her sake he had tried to be 
cautious, but he really thought caution shabby. All 
the same, he did not expect Mrs. Haigh to sym¬ 
pathize. 

Evelyn pushed back the long window, and since 
the ledge was high Kit gave her his hand. She 
gently urged him forward, and when he stopped and 
faced Mrs. Haigh she was at his side. Her color 
was rather high and her eyes sparkled, but although 
Kit was embarrassed he saw Evelyn was not. Mrs. 
Haigh looked up and her glance was not at all dis¬ 
turbed. 

“Kit thought you ought to know I have promised 
to marry him as soon as he makes some progress in 
Canada,” Evelyn said. “Perhaps it looks as if we’re 
foolish, but Kit is clever and he’s going to be 
famous.” 

“I expect I rather carried Evelyn away,” said 
Kit. “In the circumstances, I know I ought 
not-” 

Evelyn smiled. “Kit is very noble; he wants you 
to believe he persuaded me. Sometimes he thinks 
he’s romantic, but he’s really conventional. If he 
did persuade me, it was because I was willing.” 




64 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


For a moment or two Mrs. Haigh pondered. 

“Which persuaded the other is not important. 
You are very rash,” she said. 

“We are young,” Kit rejoined. “I have got an 
awkward knock, but I have time to recover, and 
people soon forget. When you’re young you look 
ahead, and since Evelyn trusts me I know I can 
make good.” 

“I don’t think your habit is to look far in front. 
Evelyn’s engagement must not stand, but if you 
are fortunate in Canada I may agree to her marrying 
you, when you can support a wife. That is all. 
Kit, and I doubt if my promising as much is wise.” 

Kit had reckoned on Mrs. Haigh’s antagonism, 
but she was kinder than he thought, and he gave 
her a grateful look. 

“Thank you. Unless I do make progress I will 
not claim Evelyn; but I’ll make all the effort flesh 
and blood can to push ahead.” 

Mrs. Haigh studied him. Kit was a handsome, 
athletic young fellow and his attracting Evelyn was 
not strange. His pose was firm. One got a sense 
of confidence and resolution, and Mrs. Haigh felt 
he stood for hopeful, conquering youth. Yet it was 
not his charm that moved her. Mrs. Haigh was not 
moved by things like that. 

“Something must be stipulated,” she said. “I 
do not acknowledge an engagement, and you must 
not write to Evelyn as if you were her lover. I 
think a letter in three or four months must be all. 
Do you agree?” 

“I dare not refuse. All the same, the stipula¬ 
tion’s hard. Are you satisfied my word goes ?” 


EVELYN CONQUERS 65 

Mrs. Haigh smiled. “Had I doubted your sin¬ 
cerity, I would have broken the engagement for 
good, but I did not doubt, and I know the ship¬ 
building company was not just. Well, since I trust 
you, you must play up.” 

‘Til try. After all, you go farther than I hoped,” 
said Kit. 

Kit stayed for dinner. At Netherhall he felt he 
was in disgrace, and where his relations were not 
frankly hostile they gave him a rather scornful pity. 
Mrs. Haigh, however, was kind, and her cheerful 
talk banished the strain he had for some time borne. 
She implied that he suffered unjustly and she ex¬ 
pected him soon to vindicate himself. Kit did not 
remark her cleverness; he was flattered and grateful. 

For all that, he was disturbed. Mrs. Haigh was 
frugal, but her frugality was not conspicuous. Kit 
noted the good glass and china and the flowers in 
the tall silver stands. The lamps had rose-colored 
shades; the soft light fell where one wanted light, 
and where one did not there was restful gloom. The 
long window was open, and one smelt flowers. In 
fact, Kit thought the small dining-room a charming 
room. 

The important thing was, Evelyn harmonized with 
all he saw. Cultivated tranquillity was her proper 
background, and if she married him she must go 
without refinements she valued. It would be long 
before he could give her a house like Mrs. Haigh’s. 
When he thought about it, Mrs. Haigh’s indulging 
him was rather remarkable, but he must not ex¬ 
aggerate. After all, he had some useful abilities, 
and although the fight might be long, he would win. 


66 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


Evelyn went with him to the gate, and for a time 
they talked hopefully. When Kit got to Netherhall 
nobody but Agatha was about. She occupied a 
corner in the hall, and he believed she waited for him. 

“You were at Mrs. Haigh’s?” she said. 

“That is so,” Kit agreed in an apologetic voice. 
“When I started I meant to say good-bye to Evelyn, 
but when I saw her my resolution melted. Perhaps 
I was selfish, for Evelyn was splendid.” 

“You imply she means to stick to you?” 

“She’s stanch as steel,” said Kit, and his eyes 
sparkled. “Sometimes I imagine you don’t like 
Evelyn; but you don’t know her. She doesn’t hesi¬ 
tate and think for herself. Her pluck’s fine.” 

Agatha’s glance was cool and searching. 

“And Mrs. Haigh? Does she approve?” 

“At all events, she’s resigned. Evelyn, however, 
does not engage to marry me; for Mrs. Haigh to 
allow it would be remarkable. I get my chance to 
make good, and if I do so, I may claim my reward. 
In the meantime that is all, but I feel it’s much. 
Anyhow, your satisfaction isn’t very marked.” 

Agatha got up and put her arm round his neck. 

“You are all I’ve got, Kit, and I see obstacles,” 
she said gently. “Yet you’re not soon daunted, and 
Evelyn is fine. Well, now you have an object, you 
must fight hard, and I’ll hope for your success.” 

Kit kissed her, and she went off. He saw she 
was not altogether satisfied, but he admitted she 
had not much grounds for satisfaction, and she was 
kind. He smoked a cigarette and went to bed. 

In the morning he carried a newspaper to a bench 
in front of the house and began to study the steam- 


EVELYN CONQUERS 67 

ship advertisements. Soon afterward Jasper Carson 
came along the terrace. 

“My sister-in-law is across at Mrs. Haigh’s,” he 
said. “I understand Evelyn means to stick to you.” 

“That is so, sir,” Kit agreed. 

Jasper gave him a queer look and his mouth went 
crooked, as if he were amused. 

“Then Miss Haigh is nobler than I thought! I 
suppose she has not persuaded you to stay in Eng¬ 
land ?” 

“I am looking up the Montreal steamers.” 

“Very well. When I get back from the coast we 
must make some plans,” said Jasper, and went down 
the steps. 

Kit frowned. The old fellow’s sneer annoyed him, 
and he resolved they would not talk about his plans 
In fact, when Jasper arrived Kit imagined he would 
be on board ship. He wanted nothing from his 
relations. Mrs. Carson thought him a wastrel, and 
it looked as if Jasper thought him a romantic fool. 

Jasper joined Agatha in the garden and inquired: 
“What do you think about your brother’s experi¬ 
ment ?” 

“On the whole, I don’t approve,” said Agatha in 
a quiet voice. 

“Your habit’s not to exaggerate,” Jasper remarked. 
“I see you’re disturbed. For whose sake are you 
disturbed ?” 

“For Kit’s,” Agatha replied. 

Jasper nodded. “You’re not a fool; my sister- 
in-law is a jealous fool, and we know Alan. Well, 
Kit’s my nephew, and I’d be sorry to see him start 
wrong.” 



68 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


“I imagined something like that, but I doubt if 
Kit does,” said Agatha calmly. “Have you some 
grounds to think his marrying Evelyn Haigh would 
be a wrong start?” 

“She’s her mother’s daughter.” 

“Mrs. Haigh has some useful qualities.” 

“She has all the shabby, utilitarian virtues,” 
Jasper agreed. 

“Are some virtues shabby?” 

“Don’t you know?” said Jasper with a dry smile. 
“However, we mustn’t philosophize. If Kit does 
marry Evelyn, I’d sooner she were like her father; 
Haigh was a humorous and rather generous wastrel. 
All the same, Kit is not yet married, and to get rich 
in Canada is harder than he thinks.” 

“But you could help!” 

“It’s possible. If my helping implies Miss Haigh’s 
rewarding Kit, I’m not very keen. In fact, there’s 
the trouble. Now perhaps you can account for my 
annoyance. I am annoyed, particularly since I want 
to be at Netherhall, but I must start for the coast.” 

“Kit is obstinately independent,” said Agatha, 
and seeing Jasper pull out his watch, let him go. 


CHAPTER VIII 


KIT TUNES HIS FIDDLE 

N ewfoundland was not far off, and a 

keen northwester sang in the Falernian’s 
shrouds. Her lights swung with a measured heave 
and green halos shone and melted in the foam that 
leaped about her starboard bow. When the long 
rollers broke one felt the shock, but the big engines 
throbbed steadily and the keen bows thrust ahead. 
Sometimes a broken sea rolled across the forward 
well, and the spray from the plunging forecastle 
beat the navigation officers keeping dreary watch on 
the inclined bridge. 

The Falernixm, however, was large, and in the 
third-class saloon near the water line one hardly 
felt the deck planks heave, and the turmoil of the 
flung-back seas was dull and soothing. Benches and 
chairs were occupied, and a big red ensign hung like 
a curtain by the piano. The blue and white crosses 
reflected the electric light, and when the flag wavered 
in the draft it looked as if the Beaver carried the 
maple leaf across the crimson field. 

A thin young man at the piano sang a song from 
the music-halls. His accent was the Lancashire 
accent and he struck wrong notes, but his audience 
69 



70 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


was not fastidious. The passengers wanted to be 
amused, for when one laughs one forgets. Kit, in 
the gloom behind the flag, fingered his violin. His 
turn was soon, and he thought a new string stretched. 

People smiled, but he imagined the smiles were 
rather brave than humorous. He saw shabby clothes, 
careworn faces, and bent shoulders. In the back 
row a tired woman soothed a fretful child. Another 
leaned against her husband and held a handkerchief 
to her mouth. Her face was pinched, and Kit heard 
her straining cough; he doubted if the immigration 
officers would allow her to land. He saw young 
men and women, and some laughed, but for the 
most part their look was not joyous. A number 
were broken by war; others had borne dreary labor 
and grinding poverty. They were on board because 
they hoped in Canada their luck might turn. 

The strange thing was, Kit thought they heard 
the Old Country call. In the morning they would 
see Newfoundland, and the Falernmn would carry 
them up the St. Lawrence to the West optimistic 
advertisements declared was golden. Yet one does 
not gladly leave all one knows, and the stern Old 
Country was home. 

By and by the music stopped, and a girl advanced. 
Kit had talked to Alison Forsyth and he gave her a 
smile. He thought her attractive, but he did not 
altogether know where was her charm. Although 
she was short, she carried herself well, and her neck 
and shoulders were strong; her hair and eyes were 
brown and her look was frank. Now she was 
obviously nervous, and when she put some music 
on the stand her color came and went. Then she 


KIT TUNES HIS FIDDLE 


71 


turned, and tilting her head a little, faced the audi¬ 
ence. Although Kit saw her hand shake, her pose 
was firm. 

He could not fix the tinkling prelude, but he 
thought it was not strange and the song was out-of- 
date. Then the girl began to sing, and he looked up 
sharply. 

“Had I the wings of a dove . . 

Although her voice was not cultivated, it was 
musical. Her intonation was good and she sang with 
feeling; in fact, Kit began to see she sang with 
emotion. He thought her rash. She was young, 
and it looked as if the music might break her control. 

“. . . I would flee, 

Just for to-night to my own country.” 

Kit frowned and studied the groups in front. 
With a song like that one could carry them away, 
and Alison was doing so; but it was not the song 
he would have sung. Besides, he doubted if she 
could keep it up. Her voice shook on a top note, 
her skin got very white, and although her eyes 
shone they shone as if they were wet. She began 
another verse falteringly, and he knew she was 
going to stop. One could not trust the fellow at the 
piano to support her, and Kit lifted his violin. 

“Go on! Fll carry you through,” he said. 

He drew the bow across the strings, and the 
harmonious chords gave her confidence. For a few 
bars he followed the melody, and then he knew she 
had got back her control, and he signed the ac¬ 
companist to stop. 

Alison’s voice grew clear and firm, and Kit carried 
her triumphantly along. For an emigrants’ concert, 


72 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


she struck a risky note, but he had gone to her 
rescue and he must see her out. Besides, the verses 
moved him. He pictured the oaks at Netherhall, 
and Evelyn walking in the shade. Her white clothes 
cut the gloom, and behind the trunks the river 
sparkled. 

Alison stopped, and for a moment all was quiet. 
Men looked straight in front. Some were stern and 
some indulged a gentle melancholy. A woman 
frankly cried. Then heavy boots beat the deck and 
a storm of noise swept the saloon. The noise did 
not stop, and Alison, flushed and highly strung, 
looked at Kit. 

“No!” he said. “You mustn’t risk it yet.” 

He went to the piano and struck a note, for the 
string had stretched. 

“Miss Forsyth will sing by and by,” he said, and 
began to play. 

Not to bother about the piano was some relief. 
Kit was going to improvise and work on the reaction 
he knew would soon begin. Miss Forsyth had 
moved the emigrants to sadness; he must move them 
to hope by the marching song. 

The first chords rang joyously, but the prelude 
sank. One heard the pilgrims start, some distance 
off. Kit’s fingers were busy on the strings, but his 
eyes were fixed on the rows of faces. Unless the 
others heard all he heard, his effort was lost. He 
saw they felt for his meaning and wondered where 
he led; and then the puzzled looks began to vanish. 
The audience was going with him. Tired and 
daunted people heard the beat of marching feet. 

Perhaps Kit exaggerated, but he had feeling and 


KIT TUNES HIS FIDDLE 


73 


talent and he let himself go. He must banish the 
others’ moodiness and his own; he and they steered 
L West, where better fortune was, and all must push 
ahead. He frankly used all the tricks he knew, but 
the emigrants were not critical, and the march fired 
their blood. The music got loud, as if it marked a 
triumphant advance, and then Kit took the fiddle 
from his neck. The others went where he wanted, 
and he knew where to stop. 

People shouted and beat the tables, but Kit van¬ 
ished behind the flag, put up his fiddle and started 
for the deck. At the rails by the ladder to the 
forward well he stopped. The spot was high, and 
across the well he saw the forecastle heave and 
plunge. Long, white-topped seas rolled up from the 
dark, broke against the bows, and melted in foam. 
Spray leaped up, blew like smoke, and beat the 
screens on the bridge. There was no moon, but the 
stars shone, and the combers’ broken tops cut the 
gloom. Kit felt the ship heave along, and to know 
he was going somewhere and went fast carried a 
thrill. The music had braced him and his heart beat 
with hope. In the West his luck would turn, and 
Evelyn was stanch. He began to think about her 
with romantic tenderness. 

After a few minutes he saw he was not alone. 
Somebody leaned against the rails under a lifeboat, 
and he thought the figure was a girl’s. She turned 
her head, and Kit advanced. 

“Miss Forsyth? I thought nobody was about. 
Why did you not speak?” 

“In the dark I didn’t know you,” Alison Forsyth 
replied. “Then I rather wanted to be alone.” 




74 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


Kit thought her voice trembled. Brisk steps beat 
the deck overhead and he heard a woman’s careless 
laugh. The first-class passengers walked about and 
joked, and, by contrast, the girl was forlorn. 

“Oh, well,” he said, “I was going-” 

“Now I do know you, you needn’t go,” Alison 
replied with some embarrassment. 

Kit laughed. “An unconscious compliment carries 
weight, and I’d rather stay. Then, if you’re down¬ 
hearted, perhaps you oughtn’t to be alone.” 

“I was rather downhearted,” Alison admitted. 
“You see, my nerve wasn’t all I thought. I knew 
I was going to be ridiculous. In a moment or two 
I must have stopped; and then you came to 
help-” 

“If you were bothered because you hesitated, you 
were ridiculous. Your song was a triumph.” 

“The triumph wasn’t mine, and when you played 
the march I was ashamed. I felt I was afraid for 
nothing.” 

Kit saw her mood was emotional. She was young 
and, so far as he knew, she had no friends on board 
the crowded ship. It looked as if her loneliness 
weighed, and to talk might cheer her. 

“After your song, my march was perhaps a con¬ 
trast, but a contrast, so to speak, is not a contradic¬ 
tion. To be sad because something you loved is 
gone is human; but it’s human to brace up and look 
for better luck. You did brace up nobly. All the 
same, I didn’t play to cheer you; I myself was dole¬ 
ful.” 

“Ah,” said Alison, “in a way, my nearly stopping 
was not important, but I thought it ominous. It 




KIT TUNES HIS FIDDLE 75 

looked as if Td started on an adventure I couldn’t 
carry out.” 

“The adventure was your starting for Montreal ?” 

Alison hesitated, but her loneliness weighed, and 
somehow she trusted Kit. 

“Yes,” she said. “You see, I wasn’t altogether 
forced to go. My father and mother are dead, but 
my relations in the North wanted me to join them. 
Until trade got slack I was at a manufacturer’s 
office, and then I couldn’t find another post. I 
wanted to go to Whinnyates, but I knew if I went 
and helped my aunt I might stay for good. Whinny¬ 
ates is a small moorland farm.” 

“But if you were not happy at Whinnyates, when 
business was better you might have gone back to 
the town.” 

“I doubt-” said Alison thoughtfully. “One is 

soon forgotten and one forgets one’s job. Whinny¬ 
ates, at the dalehead, is very quiet; you only see 
the sheep on the fellside and the cattle by the beck. 
A rock shuts in the valley and old ash-trees hide 
the house. At a spot like that you get slow and 
perhaps you get dull. You think about the dairy 
and the calves, and until dark comes work must go 
on. At a modern office they do not want a girl 
whose back is bent by turning the chum.” 

“Have you turned a churn?” 

Alison smiled. “My father was a small farmer in 
the bleak North. The soil is barren and one must 
fight floods and storms; but somehow when one 
knows the moors one does not go away. Well, I 
was afraid; I wanted to be where people traffic and 
life is thrilling.” 



76 CARSON OF RED RIVER 

“All the the same, to-night you felt Whinnyates 
called ?” 

“I expect I wasn’t logical, but in summer, when 
the wind drops and the fern is long, Whinnyates 
is a charming spot. While I sang I saw the hills 
get dark^md my aunt by the fire; the rough-haired 
dogs, and my uncle on the oak bench. They’re kind, 
blunt folks. I knew they thought about me, and I 
wanted to be back.” 

“In some respects you are luckier than I am. I 
believe my relations are glad I went. But are you 
joining friends in Canada?” 

“I have a friend at a Manitoba town, and she 
thinks I might get employment.” 

“You are going to do so. So long as you’re not 
daunted, you’ll get all you’d like to get.” 

Alison smiled, for Kit’s talk was bracing. “You 
are very hopeful, but as a rule one must be resigned 
to go without. For example, I wanted, just for 
once, to walk about the first-class passengers’ deck.” 

“Then let’s go; it’s pretty dark,” said Kit, and 
gave her his arm. 

They went up a ladder and round the spacious 
deck, but the wind was keen, and Kit steered Alison 
to a nook behind a boat. Two or three people 
occupied the sheltered spot, and by and by a steward, 
carrying a tray, came along the deck. 

“Grilled sardines and toast, sir? Prawns is off,” 
he said to a man in the group. 

“The company doesn’t pander to our appetites,” 
Kit remarked to Alison. “Do you like grilled sar¬ 
dines ?” 


KIT TUNES HIS FIDDLE 77 

The steward turned his head and Alison’s heart 
beat, but the adventure was intriguing and she felt 
Kit would not let her down. Kit beckoned the man. 

“Two portions, please! Have you coffee?” 

“Coffee’s not served after dinner. I might, per¬ 
haps-” n 

“Never mind; we musn’t break the rules,” said 
Kit. “Bring the sardines.” 

The steward went off, and when he returned he 
carried two plates. Alison took her plate. Kit had 
banished her moodiness, and although she doubted 
if she ought to agree, his ordering a first-class pas¬ 
senger’s supper was something of a joke. After a 
time she got up, and he put a coin on a plate. 

“I’m not scrupulous about cheating a steamship 
company, but one ought not to cheat a steward,” he 
remarked. “Then, since he reckons on getting his 
tips at Montreal, he’ll speculate about our generosity, 
and he may see the joke. Unless the other sees it, 
a joke has not much point.” 

They stole away, and at the bottom of the ladder 
Alison laughed. 

“Your code’s elastic.” 

“Oh, well,” said Kit, “I don’t know if one is 
justified to rob the rich, but one ought not to rob 
the poor. Anyhow, in the old romantic days it was 
supposed to be the rule. Now perhaps it’s out of 
date; but since I’m starting off with my fiddle like 
the ancient minstrels, I must play up. Well, you re¬ 
marked my bluffing the steward, and the motto is: 
When you undertake an adventure, you mustn’t hesi¬ 
tate !” 




78 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


They were opposite a light, and Alison gave him 
a grateful look. 

“Ah,” she said, “my hesitation’s gone! You gave 
me back the pluck I lost. But we have stayed for 
some time, and you said I would sing again.” 


CHAPTER IX 


THE ROAD TO THE WEST 

D UST rolled about the jolting cars and sifted 
through every opening. Cinders rattled on 
the roofs and the long train noisily followed the 
river. Although the afternoon was hot, a stove 
burned in the compartment at the back of the Colon¬ 
ist car, and Alison waited for a tin kettle to boil. 
Kit leaned against the partition and entertained two 
children by pulling a bootlace through a knot. 

“Why, that’s just too cute!” one exclaimed, and 
seized Kit’s hand. “You held on to both ends, but 
you pulled another through the loop. How’d you 
fix it?” 

“Ah,” said Kit, “there’s the puzzle! You see, a 
bootlace only has two ends.” 

The other child laughed. “A bootlace? Don’t 
you know it’s a shoe-string?” 

“I forgot,” said Kit. “I reckon sometimes it’s 
a shoe-tie. When you come to think about it, the 

proper name’s important. People go by names-” 

“You talk queer. Say, where was you raised?” 
“A conjurer’s habit is to talk. When you want 
folks to think a thing is something it is not, high- 
faluting language helps. Magicians, politicians and 
79 



80 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


company floaters know the trick. However, if you 
fix your eye on the shoe-string, I expect you’ll see 
it’s got four ends.” 

“You’re surely smart,” the child remarked. “But 
where was you raised?” 

“I doubt if I was raised; I rather think I was 
allowed to grow up,” Kit replied in a sober voice. 
“Anyhow, I grew up at an old house by a wood in 
England. A river went by the wood and the trees 
were planted three hundred years ago. The fairies 
like old trees, and when the moon was full they 
played about and rang the bluebells for music. If 
you got up early in the morning, you saw the rings 
where they danced. Now perhaps you know why 
I’m a conjurer.” 

“My teacher allowed the fairies and spooks and 
ha’ants was gone. She reckoned they couldn’t stand 
for locomotives and flivvers.” 

“Well, I expect we have fired out the haunts and 
their rattling chains; but the fairies are not yet out 
of date. Although you can’t see them, sometimes 
you hear their music; in fact, when music is very 
good, I think the fairies play. However, we’ll try 
a fresh experiment with the magic shoe-string-” 

A man carrying a frying-pan pushed back the 
door. 

“You mustn’t let the kiddies bother you,” he said, 
and turned to Alison. “I don’t want to hustle you, 
but when you’re through at the stove I’ll get busy.” 

“Let him use the stove; I’d sooner you didn’t roast 
yourself,” said Kit. “The train stops at Ottawa, 
and we’ll get some food at a restaurant.” 

Alison smiled. “In a moment or two the water 



THE ROAD TO THE WEST 


81 


will boil, and we agreed to get our meals on board. 
Then we bought the kettle, the tin plates, and a quan¬ 
tity of groceries, and in order to get our money back 
the things must be used.” 

“People talk about women’s extravagance!” Kit 
remarked. “The women I know are parsimonious.” 

The passenger who carried the frying-pan grinned. 
“You’re young, but I guess you know them, and 
your dame’s plan’s all right. When you want a 
cheap eat, eat on the cars. If you get off at a meal- 
station, they hand you red-hot hash and shout 'All 
aboard Well, I been married some time, and my 
motto is: If you want to pay off your mortgage, the 
dame must keep the wad.” 

Kit thought Alison blushed, but she turned her 
head. 

Alison brewed some coffee and Kit carried the 
pot to a second-class car. A porter fixed a board 
for a table, and Alison, unpacking a basket, began to 
cut sandwiches. Kit, until she stopped him, extrava¬ 
gantly opened packets and cans. They had agreed 
to share expenses, and Alison found that Canadian 
fruit and canned goods 'were cheaper than she had 
thought. Kit said nothing, for he had flagrantly 
cheated. 

Lunch was a cheerful function. The coffee was 
good and all Alison put on the tin plates was appe¬ 
tizing. Kit felt the meal was not a picnic; it was a 
feast. Then, although dust and locomotive cinders 
blew about, Alison’s clothes were not stained, and 
her hair was smooth and bright. In the hot and 
dusty car, sheJooked strangely fresh and clean. 

When the meal was over she carried off the plates 


82 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


and repacked the basket. Nothing was left about. 
Kit noted her fastidious neatness, and admitted that 
their housekeeping was marked by an intriguing 
charm. It was not altogether because he liked to 
lunch with an attractive girl; Alison gave the meal 
a friendly, homelike touch he had not known at 
Netherhall. Yet she was not a sentimentalist. Only 
when she sang about the Old Country had he thought 
her romantic. She was frank and cool and, so to 
speak, capable. 

The train followed the river. Dark pines, zigzag 
fences, wooden farmsteads and silo towers rolled 
by the windows. One saw shining water, and in the 
distance faint blue hills. Sometimes Kit studied a 
newspaper and Alison sewed. Sometimes they talked 
and watched the landscape speed by. 

“Does the Canadian news interest you ?” Alison 
inquired. 

“The advertisements interest me, but so far 
nothing’s doing,” Kit replied. “Somebody wants a 
man for a drygoods store and another who can sell 
patent medicines is required. Well, I cannot. Per¬ 
haps it’s strange, but, as a rule, men who make things 
can’t persuade folks to buy. Nobody wants a min¬ 
strel. Gramophones and electric organs have 
knocked us out. If I were rich, I’d have bought the 
organ at the Montreal restaurant and wheeled it to 
the St. Lawrence in order to see it splash.” 

Alison smiled. She liked Kit’s humor, but some¬ 
times she thought he did not altogether joke. 

“Until you’re famous, I expect music doesn’t pay. 
Haven’t you another occupation ?” 

“One doesn’t start by being famous, but until you 


THE ROAD TO THE WEST 


83 


are famous you’re not allowed to start. The critics 
are not logical,” said Kit. “Well, perhaps I do know 
something about machine tools, and if the railroads 
are building bridges and water-tanks, I might get 
a job. The Carsons’ business is to hammer iron. 
If you don’t mind, Ill turn up the commercial news.” 

He folded the newspaper and Alison resumed her 
sewing. By and by the conductor came along the 
passage and asked for their tickets. 

“Your company’s generous,” Kit remarked. “My 
ticket’s a foot long. If I was going to the Pacific, 
I expect you’d give me a yard.” 

“Something like that,” the conductor agreed. “If 
you haven’t a slip for each division, you’re put off 
the cars!” He turned to Alison. “I reckon you want 
a sleeper berth?” 

“Of course,” said Alison, but a train hand came 
from the vestibule and beckoned the conductor. 

“See you again,” he said and went off. 

In the afternoon the train stopped at Ottawa, and 
when dusk began to fall, Kit, in a comer of the 
smoking compartment, watched the Ontario woods 
roll by. Dark pines cut the red sunset, but the 
woods were broken, and rivers, streaked by tossing 
rapids, pierced the gloom. Sometimes Kit saw a lake 
shine with faint reflections and melt. A light wind 
blew through the compartment and carried the smell 
of pines. By and by a porter lighted the lamp, and 
Kit got up. He thought he would see if Alison had 
got her berth. 

When he opened the door he noted that the porter 
had let down the higher shelves and pulled the cur¬ 
tains. For the most part, the passengers had gone 


84 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


to bed, and the fellow was arranging two or three 
lower berths between the seats. Alison sat by a 
window and Kit thought her disturbed. Her folding 
ticket was on the seat, and when she took a thin 
roll of bills from her wallet she frowned. 

“Hello !” said Kit. “Hasn’t the fellow fixed your 
berth ?” 

“He wants a ticket. At the steamship office they 
stated that sleeping accommodation was supplied on 
board the trains.” 

“That is so,” said Kit, who began to see a light. 
“The conductor’s not about, but if you wait a few 
minutes, I expect to put all straight.” 

He went off, but he did not look for the conductor. 
[When he reached the smoking compartment he pulled 
out some paper money and knitted his brows. He 
had been extravagant, his wad had melted, and he 
did not know when he would get a job. All the 
same, he imagined Alison’s wad was smaller than 
his, and he understood her embarrassment. 

On the Colonist cars sleeping accommodation, of 
a sort, is supplied without charge; on board the other 
cars one must, as usual, buy a ticket for a berth, but 
Alison had not reckoned on paying more. Some¬ 
times to go to bed on board a second-class car is 
awkward, and Alison was fastidious. For her to 
use a Colonist car, crowded by foreign emigrants, 
was unthinkable. Well, Kit had cheated her about 
the lunch basket and he must cheat her again. He 
pulled out his sleeper ticket, but since Alison im¬ 
agined he looked for the conductor, he resolved to 
wait for two or three minutes. 

The train stopped, and Kit, going to the vestibule, 


THE ROAD TO THE WEST 


85 


saw a water tank, a few indistinct houses and the 
station agent’s office. In the background were dusky 
woods, and he heard cowbells chime. The guard 
rail on the car platform was open, as if somebody 
had got down. Then a man coming from the next 
car pushed past. His step was uneven, and he 
lurched against the door. Kit wondered whether he 
was drunk, but he turned the handle and vanished. 

After a few moments somebody waved a lantern, 
the bell tolled, and the cars jerked forward. In the 
quiet dark, the locomotive’s explosive snorts rang 
like cannon shots; the train was heavy, and Kit 
thought the track went up hill. He, however, must 
rejoin Alison, but when he reached the car he 
stopped. 

A man leaned over the seat Alison occupied. She 
faced the stranger, but he blocked the passage be¬ 
tween the benches and she had not got up. The other 
passengers were in their berths behind the curtains, 
wheels rolled, and the locomotive labored noisily up 
the incline. The fellow certainly was drunk and car¬ 
ried a pocket flask and a shining cup. It looked as 
if he urged Alison to take the cup, for her face was 
red. Then she saw Kit, and her relief was flattering. 

Signing her to be quiet, Kit advanced noiselessly. 
The stranger looked the other way, and Kit stopped 
a few yards off. To disturb the passengers by an 
angry dispute would embarrass Alison, and he 
doubted if the other would weigh a logical argument. 
Then the fellow tried to push the cup into Alison’s 
hand. 

“The stuff’s all right. Fine club whisky; I got it 






86 CARSON OF RED RIVER 

at Quebec. They’ve no use for Pussyfoots down 
the river.” 

“I hate whisky,” said Alison in a quiet voice. 

The other laughed. “Oh, shucks! You’re play¬ 
ing shy. Anyhow, you got to sample some. I took 
a shine to you.” He stopped and the liquor splashed. 
“Leg-go. Who the-?” 

Kit pulled him from the bench and turned him 
round. The man was big, but he was not steady on 
his feet and, since Kit was behind him, he could 
not seize his antagonist. Kit kept behind, and hold¬ 
ing him firmly, pushed him to the door. They had 
not disturbed the passengers, but since he must dis¬ 
engage one hand, the door was an obstacle. When 
he let go, the other turned and drove the flask against 
his face. Although the knock was hard, Kit turned 
the handle, and the fellow plunged across the plat¬ 
form, got his balance, swore and came back. Kit 
had thought he would be satisfied to put the other 
out, but the blow had hurt and anger conquered him. 

They grappled. The flask rolled under Kit’s foot, 
and his antagonist knocked his head against the 
door. He began to think he had an awkward job, 
but he had played Rugby football and studied Cum¬ 
berland wrestling. He tried for a proper hold and 
when he knew the hold was good made a savage 
effort. His antagonist let go, plunged down the 
steps, and vanished. 

Kit, rather horrified, jumped for the bottom step, 
seized a brass loop and leaned out. The beam from 
the windows swept the ground by the track, and at 
the other end of the long train somebody got up and 
began to run awkwardly after the cars Kit sat 



THE ROAD TO THE WEST 


87 


down on the step and laughed, a rather breathless 
laugh. Although the train was not going very fast, 
he thought the other’s luck was good. 

“You’re pretty hefty at a rough-house stunt,” 
somebody remarked, and Kit saw the passenger who 
had waited for Alison at the stove. 

“I don’t think I meant to put him off,” he said 
in an apologetic voice. 

“Well, you put up a useful fight and I wasn’t 
going to see you beat. When my kiddies were peeved 
and train-sick you helped them keep bright and they 
took a shine to you. I reckon you’re not a tourist. 
What’s your line?” 

“I’d like to get on a bridge or tank-building job. 
I can use a fitter’s tools.” 

“A construction company’s putting a new bridge 
across Harper’s Bar, and when I’ve dumped the 
kiddies, I expect to make the camp. The bosses 
know me, and if you look me up I might fix some¬ 
thing. Ask for Jake Gordon.” 

“Thank you,” said Kit, and the conductor and a 
train hand crossed the platform. 

“Did you see the Montreal drummer?” the con¬ 
ductor inquired. 

“I saw a pretty drunk man,” Kit replied. “Do 
you want the fellow?” 

“Sure! He was making trouble in a first-class 
sleeper; tried to pull out a passenger whose berth 
he claimed. Where’s he gone?” 

“He went down the steps,” said Kit. “A minute 
or two since he was running after the train.” 

The train hand lifted his lantern and the conduc¬ 
tor saw a red mark on Kit’s face. 



88 CARSON OF RED RIVER 

“Looks as if something hit you,” he said mean¬ 
ingly. 

“The drummer’s flask. The knock accounts for 
his getting off the train.” 

“You put him off?” said the railroad man. “You 
have surely got some gall! Well, you’ve saved me 
trouble, and when he gets tired I reckon he’ll steer 
for the depot.” 

He banged the door and Kit pulled his clothes 
straight and rejoined Alison. 

“The fellow who bothered you is gone and I saw 
the conductor,” he said, and gave her his sleeper 
ticket. “The porter’s coming and will make up your 
berth. Good-night!” 

Alison thanked him, and he went along the train 
to an emigrant car. Pulling a shelf from the roof 
he climbed up and folded his coat for a pillow. The 
polished shelf was hard and Kit had no rug, but he 
was young and the night was hot. The roll of the 
wheels got soothing and died away, and he was 
asleep. 


CHAPTER X 


A REST BY THE WAY 

T HUNDER rolled across the woods, but the 
lake sparkled in the sun. A light wind ruffled 
the shining surface and dark-blue smears broke the 
silver reflections. For three or four hundred yards 
the dusty cars curved along the bank, and the loco¬ 
motive pump’s sharp throb pierced the languid splash 
of water. 

Not far from the engine the track was cut. Gravel 
and ties and rails had gone down, and two broken 
freight cars blocked a swollen creek. Sweating, 
bare-armed men labored in the gap the flood had 
made. The shovels flashed and the gravel they threw 
about rattled noisily. Behind the train, rocks and 
woods rolled back to Hudson Bay. 

Alison, under a slanted pine, occupied herself with 
some sewing. Kit helped the workmen who un¬ 
loaded the broken cars, but by and by he climbed the 
bank. 

“In Canada, the main thing is to get on a move. 
Economy’s not important,” he remarked. “I sup¬ 
posed they’d carry the undamaged goods back to the 
line, but the foreman’s orders were to fire the blamed 
89 


90 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


stuff into the creek. It’s now going in. .1 wonder 
whether the company will meet the bill.” 

“When do we start?” Alison inquired. 

“They expect a construction train in two or three 
hours, but we may not get off for some time after¬ 
wards. Suppose we light a fire and picnic by the 
lake?” 

Alison agreed, and he carried the basket along 
the line. The day was hot and groups of passengers 
sat on the car steps and lay about in the shade. For 
the most part their clothes were threadbare and dusty 
and their faces were lined. Kit thought they had 
known poverty in the countries from which they 
came, and after the stormy voyage they had sweated 
and jolted in the crowded Colonist cars. To rest by 
the way was some relief, and nobody was keen to re¬ 
sume the journey. In hot weather a Colonist car 
has drawbacks, and one gets train-sick. 

Other groups loafed about the woods and picked 
wild berries. Where a smooth rock sloped down to 
the water, women washed clothes, and garments 
thrown down to dry dotted the stone. All but the 
children were quiet, and their shouts were spiritless. 
It looked as if a pilgrim caravan had stopped to rest 
in the lonely wilds. The locomotive pump and the 
noisy shovels struck a jarring, modern note. 

Kit lighted a fire behind a rock and thin blue smoke 
floated across the water. The pine twigs snapped 
and one smelt the resin in the wood. In front, 
languid ripples beat the stones. Alison brewed coffee 
and unpacked the basket. 

“Our stock gets low, but it ought to carry us to 


A REST BY THE yVAY 91 

Winnipeg,” said Kit in a sober voice. “I expect 
another meal is all we’ll need.” 

Alison gave him a quiet glance and then looked 
in front. Kit’s brows were knit, and she admitted 
she was melancholy. She was not a romantic senti¬ 
mentalist and Kit was not a philanderer; in fact, he 
had told her something about Evelyn. They were 
travelling companions who had met by chance, and at 
Winnipeg their roads went different ways. Yet but 
for Kit Alison knew she would have been lonely, and 
some time before morning she must let him go. To 
think about it disturbed her. 

“Where do you start for when we get to Winni¬ 
peg?” she asked. 

“I think I’ll get off at Harper’s Bar. Gordon, the 
fellow with the frying-pan, talked about a new bridge 
and thought the engineer might engage me. Since 
you made friends of Gordon’s kiddies perhaps I owe 
you something. You see, I must get a job as soon 
as possible.” 

“I owe you much,” said Alison. “Then the chil¬ 
dren were your friends.” 

“Well, let’s agree they were our friends. I don’t 
know if mutual debts, so to speak, cancel out, but I 
hope they do not, and I don’t want to cancel mine. 
You undertook the housekeeping and you feasted 
me.” 

Alison knew her debt would stand. When her 
pluck was breaking Kit braced her up. His jokes 
had banished her dreariness and in his society she 
had got back hope and calm. 

“I wonder whether my train starts from Winni- 


92 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


peg before yours,” she said. “I wouldn’t like to be 
left at the station-” 

“Yours goes first, and I'll see you on board, but 
we won’t talk about it yet. Let’s pretend we’re 
picnicking in the Old Country; for example, at a 
tarn I know. Imagine the train and the pines have 
vanished, and red heath and bright green moss roll 
down to the water. Little Herdwick sheep dot the 
slopes, and at the top the moor is broken by a dark 
gash the storms have cut. A beck sparkles in the 
stones and at the bottom leaps across a ledge-” 

“The tarn ripples,” said Alison. “A keen wind 
blows across the fells, but behind the steep bank, 
where the mountain ashes grow, the water’s smooth 
and stained by the peat. In the sun it shines like 
amber; where the clouds’ shadows fall it’s dark like 
claret.” 

“Do you know the mountain ashes grow up the 
bank?” 

“I know Swinset tarn,” said Alison. “Whinn- 
yates is four or five miles off across the moor. But 
take your coffee. And you might give me the fruit 
can.” 

Kit took the coffee and began his lunch, but after 
a time Alison looked up. 

“You have stayed for a holiday at Netherdale?” 

“That is so. In summer, Netherdale’s an attrac¬ 
tive spot.” 

“Were you at the post office? Mrs. Grey takes 
boarders.” 

Kit hesitated. He did not want to say he was at 
Netherhall; for one thing, he believed his relations 
had done with him. Then Mrs. Carson was an im- 




A REST BY THE WAY 93 

portant lady, and he would sooner Alison did not 
know Alan was his uncle. 

“I stopped farther up the valley. You see, I 
wanted to get on the moors, and at the dalehead the 
fishing’s good.” 

Alison gave him a queer look, and he wondered 
whether she knew Alan Carson preserved the fishing. 

“When you were at Whinnyates I suppose you 
went to Netherdale village?” he said. 

“For a time I was teacher at the school. To cross 
the moor was awkward, and in winter my pony could 
not face the storms. Then the pay was small and I 
was ambitious, but sometimes at the office I wanted 
to be back. Perhaps my habit is to undertake too 
big a job.” 

“Ah,” said Kit, “when you get to the obstacles that 
bother you they begin to melt. The proper plan’s to 
set your mouth and shove ahead. Since you left 
Whinnyates I imagine you have gone some distance, 
but until you get where you want you mustn’t stop.” 

“You’re an optimist,” Alison remarked with a 
smile. “Have you gone far?” 

“I’ve gone back/' said Kit rather moodily. “All 
the same, I am not beaten, and I expect to make a 
fresh start.” 

For a few minutes Alison said nothing and Kit 
was quiet. He thought she sympathized and perhaps 
she was curious, but he doubted if she wanted him 
to give her his confidence. Anyhow, he had not 
boasted; he was not beaten. In the meantime he was 
sorry for Alison. For a girl to face loneliness and 
struggle in a new country was hard. All was fresh 
and to some extent antagonistic. She must obey 


94 CARSON OF RED RIVER 

rules she did not know and be resigned to much that 
jarred. 

Kit thought Canadians had not much use for 
beginners, and to find an occupation might be awk¬ 
ward. He wondered whether Alison was daunted, 
and admitted he did not know. She was quiet and 
perhaps rather melancholy, but that was all. Any¬ 
how, he could not help. At Winnipeg their roads 
forked and each must start alone. Kit owned he did 
not want to think about it. 

“I wonder whether I can telegraph when we get 
to Winnipeg,” Alison said by and by. “If Florence 
knew when I’d arrive, she would meet me. One likes 
to be met. I’d hate to get off the cars and see nobody 
I knew. But perhaps the office will be shut.” 

“I fancy the Canadian telegraph offices do not shut, 
and after a fixed time you can send a night letter, 
a long message for a small charge. We’ll send your 
friend a summons that will bring her to the station. 
After weighing words against pennies in England 
we can be royally extravagant.” 

“Is your habit to weigh your words ?” Alison in¬ 
quired. 

“In a telegram, yes,” said Kit. “I don’t know if 
it’s strange, but as a rule the pennies tipped the beam. 
When my remarks cost something, I’m parsimoni¬ 
ous.” 

Alison gave him a kind smile. “You’re modest. 
At all events, I’m glad you were not parsimonious on 
the train. Your humor helped-” 

“Oh, well, I doubt if my humor’s cultivated, but 
it’s, so to speak, my stock-in-trade. You see, I may 
not get a post, and if I do not, I think HI push out 



95 


A REST BY THE ^WAY 

for the lonely settlements and play the fiddle. It 
looks as if the North Americans are a strenuous 
rather than light-hearted lot, but so long as some 
days are dreary and folks are sad, perhaps to joke 
and play the fiddle is a useful job.” 

Alison turned her head and looked about. The 
light wind had dropped and the sun was very hot. 
The calm lake shone dazzlingly and one smelt the 
pines, and the creosote in the railroad ties. But for 
the clash of shovels, all was quiet, and groups of 
listless emigrants occupied the belts of shade. No¬ 
body talked, and the children had stopped their play. 
In the Canadian woods one knew them forlorn 
strangers. 

'‘They're tired, Kit,” said Alison. “Play them 
something.” 

Kit went for his violin, and sitting in the stones, 
pulled the bow across the strings. His clothes were 
not conspicuous and his figure melted in the shadow 
of the trees. The calm water was like a sounding 
board, and when he began to play, the great compos¬ 
er’s march seemed to float across the lake. Alison 
wondered whether Kit consciously helped the illusion, 
for the music was distant and somehow fairylike. 
Perhaps it was monotonous, for Kit was satisfied to 
mark the rhythm, but she felt it called, and the meas¬ 
ured beat carried her along. She pictured people 
going somewhere, going steadfastly, and she wanted 
to join their advance. 

The emigrants were no longer listless. People 
turned their heads as if to see who played, and Ali¬ 
son thought a number knew the music, because they 
smiled. Some got up and came nearer the shady 


96 CARSON OF RED RIVER 


rock, but although Kit knew he had captured his au¬ 
dience he used control. Their stopping* at the lake 
was but a rest by the way and nobody yet saw the 
journey’s end. One shouldered one’s load and went 
forward; that was all. 

VTien Kit put down his violin a crowd surrounded 
the rock. Alison heard English voices and calls 
in languages she did not know. 

“They have not had enough,” she said. “They 
want you to begin again.” 

“I think not,” Kit replied. “I played the march 
on board the ship and we’ll try something fresh. All 
are not foreigners, and you’ll sing our lot a love song 
that’s famous where the English language goes.” 

He put the fiddle to his neck and for a minute or 
two played, like an overture, two or three old Scot¬ 
tish airs. Then he nodded to Alison and began a 
prelude on the lower strings. 

Alison got up. Her color was high, but she trusted 
Kit’s support. Her voice was steady and carried far. 

“Maxwelltoun braes are bonnie-” 

Kit knew she was going to triumph; his part was 
to help by quiet hamonies. As a rule her mood was 
sober, but he imagined she was moved by something 
of the tenderness and passion the dark North hides. 
Then, for the most part the British emigrants were 
North British, and Canada wears a Scottish stamp. 
Alison felt her power and she let herself go. 

“Like dew on the go wan lying-” 

Train hands came from baggage cars and the lo¬ 
comotive cab. They advanced noiselessly, and the 
crowd was still. In the distance shovels clashed, but 




A REST BY THE WAY 97 

the musical voice dominated all, and Burns’ love song 
floated, undisturbed, across the Canadian lake. 

Kit lowered his violin, and Alison gave the crowd 
a shy smile. She was not a concert singer; all the 
music she knew she had studied at a village school. 
When the cheers and shouts began she blushed and 
turned to Kit. 

“Let’s go. I don’t think I could sing again.” 

They stole away, and when Kit put his violin in 
the car they followed the track. A throbbing noise 
rolled across the woods, and presently a long black 
plume of smoke streaked the trees. The throb got 
louder and the advancing smoke leaped from the for¬ 
est as if shells exploded along its track. Kit knew 
a locomotive hauled a heavy load up-hill and he 
frowned. The construction gang would soon arrive, 
and when the line was mended the emigrant train 
would start. 

“I expect they’re bringing a load of ballast and 
when they have dumped the stuff we’ll get off,” he 
remarked in a careless voice. 

Alison said nothing. But for Kit, and another 
whom she had not seen for long, she had not a 
friend in the new country. Loneliness was hard to 
bear and to know Kit was about was some comfort. 
At Winnipeg they must separate. 

They sat down in the shade by the broken track. 
The train had arrived and men swarmed about the 
line. The cars carried gravel and a massive plow 
topped the piles of stones. Kit was interested. The 
track was not like an English track; the rails were 
light and not altogether even. The cross-ties were 
loosely ballasted and some were out of line. Yet 


98 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


they carried loads Old Country engineers had not 
tried to move. 

Then, for a thousand miles, the road pierced a 
wilderness where the traffic would not pay for loco¬ 
motive coal. The men who pushed the line across 
the rocks and woods obviously had pluck. Moreover, 
when the road reached the plains, but for the Red 
River settlement, Manitoba was a wilderness. In 
the West, the plow followed the locomotive and 
where the rails went homesteads sprang up. 

Kit thought the engineers’ haste was justified. 
They started the trains running and afterwards 
filled up the muskegs and cut out awkward curves. 
North Americans did not expect their work to stand; 
their children would use fresh plans. At Montreal 
merchants pulled down office blocks and built higher. 
The streets were bordered by scaffold poles, cranes 
rattled, and cement blew about. All was growing; 
one saw no static calm. Turmoil and destruction of 
the obsolete marked the nation’s swift advance. 

Kit, however, did not want to philosophize, and he 
studied the construction gang. Old Country methods 
were obviously out of date; the engineers were not 
going to throw off the ballast by hand. The cars’ 
sides went down and the big plow forged ahead. A 
cataract of stones marked its progress along the train, 
and the shovel gang went forward behind the noisy 
wave. Hollows vanished and a bank of gravel soon 
stretched across the gap. Men dragged clanging rails 
and hammers beat. 

“Everybody has got his job; I don’t see a fellow 
who could slack,” Kit remarked and laughed. “In 


• A REST BY THE w WAY 99 

a way, their hustling’s ominous. To keep up with a 
lot like that would bother a stranger 1” 

After a time the gravel train steamed away, and 
Kit and Alison went back along the line. Alison 
cooked supper, and when all was ready Kit picked up 
the basket. 

“We shall not need the stuff that's left and I don't 
expect the emigrants’ children have got very much,” 
he said. 

Alison agreed and Kit carried the basket to the 
Colonist car. She thought him melancholy, and 
when he came back she smiled. She herself was not 
cheerful, but at their last supper she must not brood. 
She served the meal and when Kit began to banter 
her she joked. The jokes, however, were flat and 
her appetite was not good. By and by she heard 
the conductor shout: “All aboard. Next stop’s 
Winnipeg.” 

The cars jolted and the wheels began to roll. 
Alison put up the tin plates and got her sewing bag. 
The train slowly crossed the mended line and plunged 
into the woods. Rocks and tangled pines rolled by 
and thick smoke blew about the shaking cars. Kit 
studied the newspaper; Alison sewed and mused. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE ROAD FORKS 

W INNIPEG station was crowded by dejected 
emigrants. The broken line had disorgan¬ 
ized the traffic and nobody knew’ when the west¬ 
bound trains would start, but the fashionable young 
woman at the information office thought none would 
go for two or three hours. Kit saw his polite in¬ 
quiries bored her, but she haughtily indicated the 
telegraph office, and when he sent off Alison’s mes¬ 
sage they started for the town. 

The night was hot, the pavements were wet, and 
thunder clouds rolled across the moon. For the most 
part the stores were shut, and Main Street was quiet 
but for the groups at the doors of the large hotels. 
Only that people who came out jostled others going 
in, it looked as if they went to a theatre. The 
Canadians’ habit is to perambulate the hotels in the 
evening, and the rotunda is the citizen’s free club. 

At the cheap hotels rows of men occupied the 
window chairs and rested their boots on the radiator 
pipes. Some smoked and ruminated; some frankly 
slept, and on the whole Kit thought them a dreary 
lot. He followed Main Street to Portage Avenue 
and noted the new ambitious office buildings. A 
100 


THE ROAD FORKS 


101 


Deer Park car was starting, and Alison stopped for 
a few moments to watch the passengers get on board. 
They were obviously going home and she envied 
them. 

She touched Kit, and they went along a side street 
to the river. Lights burned in the small frame 
houses, and the reflections from the windows touched 
the trees in the narrow garden-lots. Wooden pillars 
and sawn scrolls ornamented the shiplap fronts, and 
although the verandas were enclosed like meat-safes 
by mosquito mesh, Alison thought the houses pic¬ 
turesque. 

Sometimes she heard cheerful voices and some¬ 
times a gramophone. By and by she stopped opposite 
a window behind which a woman sang. Heavy 
drops splashed from the trees and the sidewalk was 
muddy; her boots were wet and a mosquito bit her 
neck. 

“Oh,” she said, savagely brushing off the insect, 
“that’s the second! I hope I killed the brute! Per¬ 
haps I’m revengeful, but it looks as if the mosquitoes 
knew we were strangers. Haven’t you got bitten?” 

“If it would be some comfort, we’ll stop until I 
do get bitten,” Kit replied. 

“You are rather noble,” Alison remarked with a 
laugh. “You see, I felt the mosquitoes were not 
just; but I’d really sooner they left you alone, and 
we won’t stop.” She indicated the little houses and 
the cheerful domestic lights. “Don’t you feel as if 
we were shut out?” 

“To control your imagination is a useful plan. 
When the Canadians know you, they won’t want to 


102 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


shut you out. So far, they have not had much chance 
to cultivate us.” 

“You are some comfort,” said Alison in a quiet 
voice. “Let’s see the river, and then I think we’ll go 
back to the station. I feel the noise is bracing.” 

They went to the river. The moon was on the 
water, and the current revolved in muddy eddies 
along the high bank. Vague trees marked the top, 
and in the distance pale lightning flickered across 
the sky. For a minute or two big drops splashed 
the pools and Alison felt the moisture warm on her 
skin. Then the rain stopped and a motor boat forged 
noisily up-stream and vanished in the dark. 

“Perhaps the boat is typical,”.Kit remarked. “Not 
very long since, the half-breed voyagers poled their 
canoes up the Assiniboine and settlers crossed the 
plains in Red River carts. Now I expect a flour¬ 
mill clerk goes as far on a holiday afternoon as the 
voyagers went in a week. Although the romance 
the others knew is gone, a gasoline launch and a rail¬ 
road car have some advantages.” 

“Do you think the Red River settlers were ro¬ 
mantic?” 

“If the folk in the hotel windows are their de¬ 
scendants, I begin to doubt. All the same, when you 
see them mend a broken track, you’re forced to 
acknowledge them a hefty lot. Well, suppose we 
admit the Red River man’s main object was to get 
there? Don’t you see his doing so is important?” 

“I’d sooner talk about something else,” said Alison 
quietly. “When you arranged about my sleeper 
I was not altogether satisfied, and to-day I made 
inquiries. You gave me your ticket.” 


THE ROAD FORKS 


103 


“So long as you are satisfied we won’t dispute,” 
said Kit. “Since I knew your independence I might, 
of course, have bought another ticket and allowed you 
to pay; but I did not. I got a berth for nothing on 
board the Colonist, and since I slept until morning 
neither of us has much grounds to grumble.” 

Alison touched his arm. “I didn’t want to 
grumble. I think I wanted you to know I knew. To 
find people do things like that is encouraging.” 

“You mustn’t exaggerate. To-night we’re forlorn 
strangers, but when you are a big company’s secre¬ 
tary and I have built a famous bridge we’ll meet 
for dinner at an expensive hotel and talk about the 
evening we arrived at Winnipeg.” 

“Ah,” said Alison, “I may not get the chance I 
want; but if I am lucky, I’ll know you helped and 
I'll meet you where you like. In the meantime, 
perhaps, we ought to start for the station.” 

They went back. Nobody yet knew when the 
trains would go, and Kit put Alison’s rug on a bench 
in the waiting hall and sat down on his bag. The 
spacious hall was rather like a palace than an English 
waiting-room. The light was soft and clear. Noble 
columns supported the huge glass dome and good 
pictures of Canadian landscapes occupied the walls. 
The ornamental benches were moulded to one’s body 
and the floor was white marble. 

The passengers, however, did not harmonize with 
the hall. Listless, dusty emigrants leaned against 
the pillars and crowded the benches. For the most 
part their clothes were threadbare and their boots 
were broken. They used bundles for pillows, and 
some who slept extended arms and legs in uncouth 


104 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


poses. A number had spread ragged blankets on 
the marble flags, and dejected groups, surrounded by 
their baggage, lay about. Kit s'aw broken boxes, 
bundles covered by colored quilts, and rolls of dirty 
bedding. It looked as if the foreigners had brought 
all their household goods and would not risk the stuff 
in the baggage cars. 

They threw paper matches, fruit bags and banana 
skins about the floor, and the hall smelt of musty 
clothes and rank tobacco. Men smoked and brooded, 
women talked in moody voices, and jaded children 
cried. Nobody bothered about them, for Colonist 
passengers cannot buy civility. They did not know 
when their trains would start, and Kit doubted if 
all knew where they went. They had bought a 
ticket for a spot on the map, at which, perhaps, 
somebody from their native village had prospered. 

One got a sense of apathetic resignation, but Kit 
remarked that some mouths were firm and some 
brows were knit. After all, the slack and hopeless 
do not emigrate, and those who took the plunge had 
virile qualities. Their patience was perhaps remark¬ 
able, but Kit thought they could be moved. To put 
the crowd on the cars, however, was the railroad 
company’s business, and Kit gave Alison a packet 
of candies he had bought and lighted a cigarette. 
Alison motioned him to rest his back against the rug 
she pulled across the bench. By and by a bell tolled 
and wheels rattled. 

“My train?” said Alison, and Kit stopped a rail¬ 
road official. 

“Winnipeg Beach excursion,” said the man, and 


THE ROAD FORKS 105 

Kit thought Alison was glad because she need not 

go. 

When the excursionists crossed the hall he studied 
the groups. The girls’ clothes were fashionable; the 
young men wore straw hats and summer flannels. 
They carried themselves well, their steps were quick, 
and their voices happy. Kit thought them keen and 
optimistic, and he speculated about their occupations. 
For one thing, it looked as if their pay was good. 
Alison frowned, for she marked a contrast. The ex¬ 
cursionists were going home after a holiday. In the 
morning they would resume their well-rewarded 
labors at office and store, but she had no home, and 
it might be long before she got a post. 

A girl gave her a sympathetic glance and touched 
her companion. He was a rather handsome young 
fellow and he stopped in front of Kit. Kit, sitting 
on his bag, leaned against Alison’s bench, and her 
dress touched his clothes. 

“You’re from the Old Country? Waiting for the 
west-bound?” the Canadian inquired in a friendly 
voice. 

“That is so,” said Kit. “Do you know anything 
about the trains? So far as we can find out, the 
railroad men do not.” 

The other laughed. “In the West you don’t bother 
the railroad gang. They don’t like it. You buy 
your ticket and wait until they think you ought to 
start. However, the yard loco’s moving some cars, 
and I expect the Vancouver express will soon pull 
out. Well, I reckon you’re going the proper way. 
On the plains we’ll cut a record crop and trade will 


106 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


boom. If you’re willing to hustle, you’ll make good. 
Will you take a cigarette?” 

He gave Kit a package, and the girl gave Alison 
a bag of fruit. When they went off Alison’s eyes 
twinkled, but Kit thought her color rather high. 

“They’re good sorts,” he remarked. “Husband 
and wife?” 

“Not yet,” said Alison, as if she knew. “They 
are going to be married; I think they fixed it, not 
long since, at Winnipeg Beach. The girl’s kind, and 
because she’s happy she wanted to sympathize.” 

She turned her head and Kit saw a light. Perhaps 
the others thinking them man and wife was not re¬ 
markable, and he began to muse. Although the 
Winnipeg girls were attractive, none had a charm like 
Alison’s. Their walk and carriage indicated that 
they knew their power to attract, but Alison’s charm 
was unconscious. Kit liked her level glance, her 
touch of quiet humor and her independence. When 
she was gone he would be lonely. Since he was not 
a romantic sentimentalist, there was the puzzle. 

Alison knew he was Evelyn’s lover, and although 
now he thought about it, she had some physical 
charm, her beauty did not move him. In fact, he 
was not attracted because she was a girl; sex had 
nothing to do with it. Perhaps her trusting him ac¬ 
counted for much. One liked to be trusted and one 
liked people one helped; but Kit doubted if it ac¬ 
counted for all. Anyhow, he did not want to let her 
go. Alison was quiet, and he lighted a cigarette 
from the Canadian’s package. 

At length, a bell rang and a long train rolled into 
the station. Alison got up, as if she braced herself, 


THE ROAD FORKS 


107 


and Kit seized her bag. He told her to hold his arm 
and they were carried to the door by a jostling crowd. 
On the platform the crowd stopped and surged tu¬ 
multuously about. Tall iron rails enclosed the space 
and a group of muscular railroad men kept the gate. 
Kit supposed they wanted to examine the tickets, 
since another train started soon. 

The emigrants, however, had waited long, and 
now they saw the train they meant to get on board. 
A number knew no English. On board ship and at 
the stations strangers drove them about and penned 
them up like cattle. It looked as if they had had 
enough and their dull resignation vanished. They 
growled sullenly, and Kit thought “growl” was the 
proper word, for the noise carried a hint of animal 
savageness. When the shipyard gates stopped a 
strikers’ march, Kit had heard the ominous note 
before. 

“Give me your ticket,” he said to Alison. “I’ll 
see you on the cars.” 

“But the railway people will turn you back.” 

“I think not; if they try, they’re fools,” said Kit. 
“This crowd’s going through.” 

For a few minutes the railroad men struggled to 
hold the jostling passengers, and then one shut the 
ponderous gate. The mob howled and rolled ahead, 
and the group was flung against the rails. A whistle 
pierced the turmoil; porters and train-hands ran to 
help, but the emigrants’ blood was fired and they 
raged behind the barrier. A few, perhaps, were fa¬ 
natic anarchists; others had borne oppression and 
stern military rule. Now authority again blocked 
their road they meant to fight. 


108 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


The rails were high, but men getting on others’ 
backs began to climb across. Then somebody re¬ 
opened the gate and a fresh guard tried to hold the 
gap. Kit liked the fellows’ pluck, but he thought 
them foolish. Anyhow, they were not going to stop 
him. Alison must get her train. 

Clutching the bag, he steered her into the press. 
He stumbled against luggage the emigrants dropped 
and doubted if Alison kept her feet, but she stuck to 
him and they got nearer the gate. In front he saw 
heaving shoulders and bent backs. The men’s arms 
were jambed; it was like a Rugby scrimmage. 
JVomen screamed, and one, jerking up her hand, 
struck Kit’s face. He did not know if he jostled her, 
but in the turmoil he must go where the others went. 
People strained and gasped and fought. Jambed 
tight, they pushed for the barrier; and then the thick 
rails crashed. 

The crowd spilled out across the platform as a 
flood leaps a broken dam, and Kit, plunging forward, 
had room to choose his line. The emigrants meant 
to get on board as soon as possible and they swarmed 
about the cars nearest the broken rails. Kit saw a 
better plan. 

“Come on 1” he shouted, and started for the front 
of the long train. 

After a minute or two he stopped at a second- 
class car. Behind him others ran along the line and 
he pushed Alison up the steps. A colored porter 
came from the vestibule. 

“Have you got a sleeper berth ?” Kit asked. 

“The conductor’ll fix you all right,” said the porter. 
“Where’s your grip?” 


THE ROAD FORKS 


109 


Kit gave him the bag, and when the fellow went 
off turned and looked about. The group he had 
remarked steered for the vestibule. 

“We mustn't block the steps, and you ought to get 
your place,” he said. 

Alison on the top step hesitated, and then put her 
hand on his shoulder. 

“Good-bye! Thank you for all, Kit,” she said 
and turned her head. 

Kit kissed her and jumped back. The crowd had 
reached the car and people pushed him from the 
steps. For a moment Alison leaned over the rail 
and he waved his cap. 

“Cheerio! Look in front!” he shouted, and Alison 
smiled and vanished. 

Two or three minutes afterwards the cars jolted 
and smoke and cinders blew about. Lights rolled by 
and melted, the locomotive bell stopped and the train 
was gone. Kit went back to. the waiting hall, but 
he did not steer for the bench Alison had occupied. 
Sitting down across the floor, he moodily lighted his 
pipe. 


CHAPTER XII 


KIT PLAYS FOR HIS SUPPER 

I N the morning Kit’s train stopped at a prairie 
station and he went along the line to the baggage 
car. The door rolled back, and when he jumped on 
the step a sack plunged out and rolled down the bank. 
Then a box crashed on the ballast, and since Kit did 
not want to be knocked off he moved along the step. 
Inside the car a muscular fellow pulled down a pile 
of baggage and another waited to throw out the 
stuff. Although Kit beckoned, the men did not stop. 

“Have you got a small brown steamer trunk?” he 
inquired. 

“We have not,” said one. “Get out of the light!” 

“The trunk was loaded up at Montreal—-” 

The baggage man gave an order to his mate, and 
they dragged a box to the door and pushed it from 
the ledge. In order to avoid a collision Kit jumped 
down and when he climbed back his face was red. 
“Where is my trunk?” 

“Search me! You’re a sticker all right,” the rail¬ 
road man remarked and threw a bag as if he aimed at 
Kit. 

Kit thought the next bag might hit him, and he 
got down. A man from the office pushed past and, 
110 



KIT PLAYS FOR HIS SUPPER 111 


refusing to stop, climbed on board the car. When 
the train started he gave Kit a careless glance. 

“Are you wanting something?” 

“I want my trunk. At Montreal your baggage 
clerk said I’d get it when I arrived.” 

“Sure!” remarked the agent. “Those fellows do 
talk like that; it’s in the company’s folders. Have 
you got a check.” 

Kit pulled out a check he got at Montreal. 

“Well,” said the agent, “your trunk’s not on the 
train. She may come along in the morning and she 
may be a week. Depends on your luck.” 

He went off and shut his office. Nobody came for 
the baggage and Kit sat down on the broken box. 
The cars had begun to melt into the plain and the 
smoke that rolled across the grass got faint. Fifty 
yards off a small frame hotel faced the track. The 
next building was a grocery, and then six or seven 
little shiplap houses bordered the wagon trail. There 
was no pavement, and the black soil was torn by 
wheels, but a few planks went along the front of the 
houses. By the hotel, two light wagons and a bat¬ 
tered car were in the grass, and on the veranda a 
man smoked his pipe. Harper’s Bar was obviously 
a tranquil spot. 

Although the settlement had not much charm, the 
background pleased Kit. The prairie was not the 
monotonous flat he had pictured. The plain rolled, 
and the grass was dotted by tall red flowers like 
lilies. Ponds shone in the hollows, poplar bluffs 
checkered the rises, and at one spot yellow sandhills 
reflected the sun. A belt of trees, marking a river, 
curved about a shallow valley, and in the distance the 


112 CARSON OF RED RIVER 

green and ocher of the grass melted into ethereal 
blue. 

The landscape was not like an English landscape, 
for the colors were vivid and the outlines sharp. 
Although the sun was hot, a keen wind rolled white 
clouds across the sky, and Kit got a sense of spacious¬ 
ness and freedom. For one thing, he saw no fences. 
Only a skeleton windmill and a wooden homestead, 
a mile or two off, indicated that the prairie was not 
a wilderness. 

Kit pulled out his wallet. In England he had 
reckoned by shillings, and now he had begun to 
reckon by dollars; his wad of paper money was 
ominously thin. All the same, his last meal was the 
supper Alison cooked on board the cars, and he 
glanced at the hotel. On the whole he thought he 
would try the grocery and he crossed the track. 

Although the skeleton door was covered by a 
mosquito net, flies swarmed about the grocery. Dead 
flies stuck to the paper traps and dotted the dusty 
floor. The room was very hot and Kit sat down on 
a barrel. After he had knocked for some time, a 
man came in. The storekeeper had no coat and his 
white shirt was crumpled and soiled. 

“I was hoeing up my potato hills,” he said. “The 
boys expect me to sit around and be sociable eve¬ 
nings.” 

“Can you sell me something to eat?” Kit inquired. 

“Crackers?” suggested the other. “Maybe some 
cheese ? I might give you butter, but you’d want to 
use a can.” 

Kit bought cheese and crackers; and then asked: 
“How far is the new bridge?” 


KIT PLAYS FOR HIS SUPPER 113 


“Eight miles. Sometimes a supply train stops at 
the station tank, but if you want to ride, your plan’s 
to hire Cassidy’s flivver. I reckon he’d take you out 
for three or four dollars.” 

“It looks as if I’d have to walk,” said Kit. 
“Which way do you go?” 

The storekeeper told him and resumed: “You talk 
like you was from the Old Country. Are you look¬ 
ing for a job?” 

Kit said it was so and the other smiled. 

“I was raised in England; the orphanage shipped 
me out and a whiles since they put a picture of my 
store in their little book. Two fellows loading a 
wagon at the steps and a big freight train on the 
track in front! Thomas Light foot, merchant. An¬ 
other -boy does well in Canada, printed at the 

top. I don’t grumble, but if the boys would pay their 
bills, I might do better. Well, the sun is pretty 
fierce and maybe you’ll take a drink.” 

He went off and came back carrying two glasses 
of pale green liquor in which ice floated. 

“Good luck!” he said. “I’m a lawful citizen; the 
stuff’s soft all right.” 

“Thank you! You’re a first-class sort,” said Kit, 
and drained his glass, for the lemonade was cold and 
good. 

“If the bridge bosses turn you down, you might 
go on to Jardine, where the boys are putting up a 
tank,” Light foot resumed, and looking about his 
shelves, gave Kit a small can of fruit. “Another on 
me! I reckon it will help your lunch.” 

Kit thanked him and started for the bridge. The 
storekeeper’s kindness was encouraging, because he 



114 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


had begun to feel that Canada was a foreign coun¬ 
try. He did not know if the Canadians were antag¬ 
onistic, but they were not polite. Kit thought the 
baggage man’s ordering him to get out was typical, 
but in a sense perhaps it was logical. The fellow 
did not have his trunk and there was no use in talk¬ 
ing. Kit smiled and looked in front. 

The trail went up a gentle slope, and where the 
wheels had torn the sod the black soil reflected the 
light as if the stuff was greasy. The wheel-marks 
were not straight; they curved about clumps of brush 
and sloos where the grass was high. Near the top, 
a farmer turned the clods in the summer fallow and 
dust rolled like smoke about indistinct horses and 
sparkling steel. 

By and by the soil got lighter and the grass was 
rather gray than green. The black stuff was the 
gumbo in which the wheat plant thrives, but it looked 
as if the fertile belt followed the river, and on the 
high ground the wheels plowed up sandy gravel. 
Although Kit had thought to see homesteads, and 
fields of wheat rolling in the wind, Manitoba was yet 
marked by spaces cultivation had not touched. 

After a time he sat down in the grass by a spar¬ 
kling pond. Behind the pond was a poplar bluff, and 
cool shadows trembled on the grass. Kit, pulling 
out the cheese and crackers, began his lunch. His 
violin was all he carried, he did not know when he 
would get his trunk, and his money was nearly 
gone. Then it was possible the bridge engineers 
would have no use for him. Perhaps he had some 
grounds to be anxious, but he was not. 

The wind and the sunshine banished moody 


KIT PLAYS FOR HIS SUPPER 115 


thought. The sky was blue and to look across the 
spacious plain was bracing. One saw it melt in the 
distance, and the distance called. If he did not get 
a job, he must fiddle for his supper, and in the morn¬ 
ing he would push on again. Sometimes in England 
he had pictured humorously a minstrel’s life, and 
now it looked as if the life might be his. 

A gopher stole from the grass and plunged into a 
hole. A flock of birds flew along the edge of the 
blufif. They were like English blackbirds, but their 
wings were marked by golden bars. Splendid red 
lilies dotted the plain, the tossing branches made a 
soothing noise and the wind blew away the flies. 

Kit opened the fruit can. He had meant to be 
frugal, but he was hungry, and the acid currants 
helped the cheese and crackers. When he had satis¬ 
fied his appetite all was gone and he lighted his pipe. 
He was not bothered by luggage and when one travel¬ 
led light one went farthest. To start with a fiddle 
and two or three small bills was something of an 
adventure. Lying in the grass he smoked and mused. 

He pictured Evelyn under the big oaks at Nether- 
hall. Her white dress cut the shadows and her voice 
harmonized with the river’s languid splash. She 
was serene and graceful, and she carried herself 
proudly. One felt the sweep of smooth grass, the 
flower borders, and the dignified old house were 
proper. To see her at the tarn was harder, and the 
picture got indistinct. On the bleak moor Evelyn was 
somehow exotic, and Kit admitted he could not see 
her on board the emigrant ship. When he thought 
about it, he smiled. To picture Evelyn’s singing in 
the third-class saloon was ridiculous. 


116 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


Kit let it go and pondered tranquilly. On the 
whole, he thought temperament rather than circum¬ 
stances accounted for one’s adventures. In a sense 
he was not forced to start for Canada; were he an¬ 
other he might have taken another line. He was 
resting by the Manitoba bluff because he was Chris¬ 
topher Carson and had inherited qualities that per¬ 
suaded him to go; he did not see Evelyn in the third- 
class saloon because she was Evelyn. Anyhow, it 
was something like that, but he was not a philoso¬ 
pher, and he began to muse about Alison. 

Although he knew her fastidious, when she cooked 
supper on the train and occupied the bench at Winni¬ 
peg station, her surroundings did not jar. One felt 
shabbiness and dreariness vanished when she was 
about. It looked as if she had power to transmute 
the ugly things she touched to something fine. Kit 
wondered whether he was romantic, but he did not 
think he exaggerated much. 

Yet Alison, so to speak, was not at all remarkable, 
and when one speculated where her charm was one 
did not know. All the same, she had charm; perhaps 
it was her frank, thoughtful look, her obvious sin¬ 
cerity 7 . Kit saw her, tired and forlorn but smiling, 
on the bench at the marble waiting-hall; and the 
emigrants lying drearily about the flags. Then the 
train rolled into the station and the passion of the 
crowd was roused. Alison clung to him and they 
fought to reach the gate. The rails went down, they 
sped across the platform and he pushed her up the 
steps. 

Perhaps it was strange, but Kit did not remember 
all he said. Something about bracing up and look- 


KIT PLAYS FOR HIS SUPPER 117 


ing in front. Well, he was a fool, for now he 
thought about it, Alison had braced him. Anyhow, 
he kissed her and the cars began to roll ahead. He 
wanted to jump on board, but the train went faster 
and the lights got faint. . . . The dim reflections 
melted . . . and Kit was asleep. 

When he looked up, the shadows had moved across 
the grass and he pulled out his watch. If he wanted 
to reach the bridge for supper, he must start, and 
picking up his violin case, he set off. The trail 
dipped to hollows where the grass was tall, and 
curved round shady bluffs. Gophers ran about, and 
a flock of prairie chickens sprang noisily from the 
brush. Sometimes Kit saw a homestead and a belt 
of dark green wheat; sometimes he labored across 
sandhills where stable litter bound the road. In 
front the wheel-marks went across the horizon. 

At length a belt of trees began to get distinct and 
Kit saw smoke. The smoke trailed far across the 
grass, and when he got nearer, was pierced by a 
shining plume of steam. Hammers beat like chim¬ 
ing bells, and he heard the musical clash of steel. 
Kit unconsciously went faster. Where men ham¬ 
mered iron was the place for him. 

After a time he reached a gap in the trees. The 
railroad pierced the wood, and on one side the birches 
and poplars were chopped back. The trunks lay 
beside a forking row of rails and Kit smelt sappy 
wood and withering leaves. Following the branch 
track, he stopped at a river. Log shacks, tents, and 
two or three iron shanties occupied the high clay 
bank, and a wooden bridge carried the line across. 
A hundred yards off, clusters of iron columns, 


118 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


strongly braced, broke the muddy current. Steel 
girders and a network of tie-rods and wooden plat¬ 
forms joined the columns to the bank. 

Work had stopped and brown-skinned men 
swarmed about the tin basins on the benches in front 
of the bunk-house. The men’s shirts and brown 
overalls were stained by grease and clay. Kit 
thought them an athletic lot, and he stopped one. 

“Is your boss about?” he inquired. 

“He’s not,” said the other and started for the 
washing bench. 

Kit got in front of the fellow. “When will the 
boss arrive? I’m looking for a job.” 

“I sure don’t know. You might see the foreman. 
He’s by the shack.” 

Kit steered for the spot, and the foreman looked 
at him thoughtfully. 

“Are you a blacksmith?” 

“I am not, but I can use a forge hammer and 
sharpen tools.” 

“We want a blacksmith,” remarked the foreman, 
and began to move away. 

“Can’t you give me a job of some sort?” 

“Nothing doing; we’re full up. You might try 
the tank at Jardine. It’s ten miles west,” said the 
foreman and went off. 

Kit frowned. In twenty-four hours all he had 
eaten was a small can of fruit and some crackers 
and cheese. He was young and his appetite was 
good; he did not see himself walking to Jardine 
and waiting for breakfast. Besides, he might not 
get breakfast. Then he began to smile. After all, 


KIT PLAYS FOR HIS SUPPER 119 


he might earn his supper by fiddling, and he tuned 
his violin. 

In two or three minutes a crowd of muscular 
workmen surrounded the spot. Kit played Mendels¬ 
sohn’s “Wings of Song,” but he felt calm and stately 
music did not go, and since he did not know much 
ragtime, he experimented with Scottish airs. A 
ranting, clanging reel captured his audience, and 
Kit knew he was on the proper track, for he saw long 
boots beat the ground and brown hands mark the 
time. He tried a Strathspey, but Strathspeys are 
awkward music, unless one is a Scot, and he began 
a Highland chieftain’s march. Then a man came 
from the bunk-house and looked about. 

“Wha’s playing?” he inquired. 

The others indicated Kit, and the man signed him 
to advance. 

“Yon reel was not bad; ye got the lilt and swing 
o’t,” he remarked. “Ye cannot play a Strathspey; 
I dinna ken about the march. In a dance tune a 
fiddle’s heartsome, but for real music ye need the 
pipes.” 

“A fiddle has some limitations,” Kit agreed in a 
sober voice. “Its line is melody. ^Where you want 
volume, perhaps an organ-” 

“An organ canna’ beat the pipes,” the other re¬ 
joined, and the workmen began to laugh. 

“We like you, Jock, but we want our supper,” said 
one. “Quit talking and set up the hash.” 

The cook did not turn his head; he studied Kit. 

“Ye’ll not have got supper yet?” 

Kit said he had not, and the cook pointed to the 
bunk-house door. 



120 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


“Ye ken something about music. Come away in.” 
“Speed up! We want supper,” shouted the work¬ 
men, and the cook and Kit started for the shack 
in front of a noisy mob. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE COOK'S MUSICIAN 

K IT did not know where he would get breakfast, 
and he indulged his appetite. The food was 
good and all that bothered him was he could not 
copy the workmen's speed. Bacon, fried potatoes, 
beans and slabs of pie vanished; the men drained 
cans of tea and shouted for fresh supplies. They 
were muscular fellows. Although they were West¬ 
ern, Kit thought their type simpler, and, in a way, 
more primitive than the mechanics he had known. 
The shipyard workers were sportsmen, politicians, 
and sometimes philosophers. At the engine shops 
one heard much about racing, football and social 
economics. It looked as if the Canadians concen¬ 
trated on their occupation, and now they frankly 
concentrated on their supper. In fact, Kit felt the 
rude feast was marked by something of a Homeric 
touch. 

The men’s clothes were thin, and one saw their 
bodies were molded on classical lines; sometimes an 
unconscious pose was statuesque. Then one got a 
hint of careless, optimistic confidence. The bridge 
gang obviously did not bother; they labored, fought, 
and trusted their luck. Kit felt the gang and the 
121 


122 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


bunk-house harmonized. The piles of food, rusty 
stove, and battered tin lamps were properly in the 
picture. All was rude and vigorous, and had nothing 
to do with modern cultivation. 

Before Kit was altogether satisfied the men were 
gone, and the cook began to carry off the plates. 
Kit helped and afterwards they lighted their pipes. 

“If ye’ll get your fiddle, I’ll let ye see how yon 
march should go,” the cook said by and by. 

Kit played a few bars; and then the other, drum¬ 
ming on the table, marked the puzzling rhythm. 

“I think I see,” said Kit. “It’s a linked note 
trick; you drive the last quaver across the bar. Let’s 
try——” 

“Noo ye have got it,” the cook approved. “If ye 
could stop for a week, I’d show ye how a Strathspey 
is played. Highland music is no’ like ither music.” 

“Five beats to a bar are awkward,” Kit agreed. 
“Anyhow, I can’t stop for a week. In fact, since 
your foreman has no use for me I ought to shove 
off.” 

“Ye’ll get breakfast before ye tak’ the road. Do 
ye waken early?” 

Kit said when he was at the shipyard he was forced 
to get up soon, and the cook nodded. 

“Then, if ye’ll light the stove in the morning and 
play yon march, ye might bide until the boss comes 
back. We do not expect him for two, three days. 
I reckon ye’d help me chop wood and cut potatoes ?” 

Kit was willing. He liked the cook and it was 
not important that the hospitality the fellow offered 
was the company’s. 


THE COOK’S MUSICIAN 123 

“Thank you,” he said. “But why do you want 
me to play the march?” 

The other told him. Long since, when he was a 
herd boy, a Highland gentleman occupied a shoot¬ 
ing lodge near the Scottish village, and in the morn¬ 
ing his piper played on the terrace. Kit had not 
thought the Scots romantically sentimental, and he 
remarked the cook’s apologetic smile. The fellow 
admitted that he himself played the pipes. 

“To hear the music in the fresh morning was 
fine,” he said. “I was away early with the dogs 
when a’ was quiet and only the sheep were moving 
on the moor. Maybe ye’d hear a cock-grouse crow, 
and then the pipes began. Weel, I was a raw herd 
laddie and I thought, if I got rich, my piper would 
w T aken me with music like yon. Ye see, the march 
is famous; I’m thinking the Prince’s pipers played 
it on the road to Derby. ...” 

He knocked out his pipe, smiled, and resumed: 

“It’s lang syne and I’m no yet rich. To the moor 
where the sheep fed is a far cry, but when ye began 
yon march I saw the mist roll up the brae and I 
thought the grouse were calling. Weel, until the 
boss comes back I’ve got my piper, and I’ll lie until 
ye play for me the morn. In the meantime I must 
make the coffee and slice the breakfast pork.” 

He went to his store, and Kit went to a bench in 
front of the shack. In the distance the prairie was 
blue; the sky was saffron and red. By the river bank 
dark trees cut the sunset, and fading reflections 
touched the stream. The camp was quiet but ham¬ 
mers rang along the bridge, and after a time a pillar 
of fire leaped up. For a few moments the flame was 


124 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


smoky, and then the light got clear and Kit knew 
somebody adjusted the blast-lamp’s valves. 

Braced columns and steel lattice shone like silver, 
and on the high platforms workmen’s figures, in 
black silhouette, cut the strong illumination. Grass 
and leaves sparkled as if touched by frost, and a 
glittering flood broke against the piers. The sun¬ 
set’s reflections vanished, and where the bright beam 
did not reach all was dark. 

The hammers beat faster and small pale flames 
marked the rivet forges. Kit saw red specks move 
along the bridge and sparks fly, and he ruminated 
humorously. His fiddle had earned his supper, and 
for two or three days he could reckon on his food 
and a bunk-house bed; but he was not ambitious to 
be a cook’s musician. His job was at the bridge. 
Well, there was no use in brooding, and his first 
post in Canada was rather a joke. By and by he 
returned to the bunk-house and was soon asleep. 

Not long after daybreak he got down from his 
bunk and stole across the floor. The bridge gang 
slept noisily, and to waken the men before the usual 
time might be rash. To light the stove was perhaps 
not a minstrel’s job, but he had undertaken to do so, 
and since it was his first experiment, he had got up 
early. 

The stove was in a lean-to shed and did not bother 
Kit. The poplar billets snapped behind the bars and 
the iron got red. He liked the smell of the wood, 
the morning was fresh, and the warmth was sooth¬ 
ing. Pulling out his watch, he saw he did not waken 
the cook for some time, and he made coffee and found 
a slab of pie. When he had drained the can and the 


THE COOK'S MUSICIAN 125 

pie was gone, he lighted his pipe. After all, to help 
the cook had some advantages. 

At length, he got up and tuned his fiddle by the 
track. Mist floated about the river and dew sparkled 
on the grass. All was fresh and bracing, and Kit’s 
mood was buoyant. He put the fiddle to his shoulder 
and a joyous reveille roused the sleeping gangs. 
Then for a few moments Kit stopped. Sometimes 
at camps he had known reveille was not joyous, and 
he pictured tight-mouthed men strapping up packs 
and ground-sheets and taking the muddy road. The 
road faced the rising sun, but it had carried Kit’s 
pals West. 

Well, it was done with and one must look ahead. 
Kit was the cook’s piper, and he pulled the bow across 
the lower strings. He thought the pipes began on 
under tones; and then he leaped an octave to the 
ranting tune. The music was not great music, but 
it fired the blood and moved one’s feet. Kit was not 
playing for critics; he called muscular men to work. 
Perhaps the chords were like the pipes, but no pipes 
could give the clear ringing notes one got from the 
high strings. If the cook had imagination, he would 
hear the broadswords rattle and the clansmen’s feet. 
The Highlanders marched for Derby to a tune like 
that. 

The music carried far and men came from the 
house and tents, splashed at the wash bench, and 
waved to Kit. 

“Some tune, stranger! Hit her up!” 

By and by the foreman walked along the line. 

“I reckoned you had quit!” 


126 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


Kit said the cook had stated he might stay for 
a day or two, and the other nodded. 

4 ‘Well, you can play mornings and evenings. If 
I hear the fiddle after the boys get busy, I’ll put you 
off the camp.” 

It looked as if the cook were important, but some¬ 
body beat a suspended iron bar and the men started 
for the house. Kit went with the others and the 
cook pushed a big coffee can into his hands. 

“Hustle round the table and keep the boys sup¬ 
plied. When all’s gone ye’ll get a fresh lot in the 
shack.” 

Kit saw he must earn his breakfast. In Canada, 
a minstrel was evidently not an honored guest, but 
he must not grumble, and he ran about with the can. 
When the men went off, the cook gave him a heaped 
plate and he noticed that the bacon was thin and 
crisp and the sliced potatoes were golden brown. Kit 
imagined the gang did not get the best. 

After breakfast they cleaned the plates, and then 
Kit chopped wood and carried water. In the after¬ 
noon he pulled down and mended the smoking stove 
pipe, and when dusk fell he admitted that to help 
the cook was not the joke he thought. 

A day or two afterwards he carried a tub of 
potatoes to a shady spot under the trees, and sitting 
down in the chopped branches, sharpened his knife 
on his boot. The bridge gang was not fastidious, 
and the knife was dull. His clothes were greasy 
and his skin was not clean, for he had recently 
scraped the stove flues, and the soap was not very 
good. Then he had burned his hand and to play the 
fiddle hurt, but in the morning he must play the 


THE COOK’S MUSICIAN 


127 


Highland chieftain’s march. The march began to 
get monotonous, and on the whole Kit thought 
when the construction boss returned and sent him 
off he would be resigned to go. 

By and by he heard steps and looked up. Gordon, 
whose children he had amused on board the cars, 
stopped in front of the potato tub. He threw down 
the pack he carried, and when he studied Kit his 
eyes twinkled. 

“You made it! A fellow at the settlement reck¬ 
oned I’d find you at the bridge.” 

“1 arrived two or three days ago, but I’m not 
staying long.” 

“Don’t you like your job?” 

“The trouble is, I haven’t got a job. Anyhow, 
I’m not on the pay-roll. My business is to play the 
fiddle mornings and evenings. Between times I 
carry coal, cut potatoes, and clean the stove, so to 
speak, for relaxation.” 

“Something fresh?” said Gordon. “In the Old 
Country you didn’t carry coal.” 

“At an English shipyard the trucks discharge into 
the furnace hoppers. All the same, at the beginning 
I used a forge hammer.” 

“Now you talk!” said Gordon. “If you were at 
a shipyard I guess I can fix you. We’ll go along 
and see the smith.” 

“I saw the foreman and admitted I was not a 
smith. He stated he had no use for a roustabout.” 

“A foreman knows where he mustn’t make 
trouble.” 

“I fancied that was so, because your cook allowed 
me to stay. I expect a good cook is important.” 


128 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


“A good smith’s important, and Bill’s my pal. 
Come on. We’ll see what he can do.” 

They went along the track and Kit inquired for 
the children. 

“They’re pretty spry,” said Gordon. “When I 
dumped them at Portage they allowed if I met up 
with you I was to send you back. They’re surely 
keen on conjuring.” 

Kit laughed and remarked that he thought Port¬ 
age was on another line. Gordon nodded. 

“That’s so. I went back to Winnipeg. Mr. Aus¬ 
tin’s at the Strathcona, and since I was some time 
in Ontario, I wanted to see if he’d kept my job.” 

“But has a gentleman at Winnipeg something to 
do with the bridge?” 

“Mr. Austin’s the company’s engineer; he took a 
holiday. Wheeler’s head construction boss, but he’s 
not around all the time. If we can fix you up, you’ll 
like Austin. He’s a pretty good sort of boss.” 

Kit was not interested, and by and by Gordon 
stopped at the forge. The smith threw a glowing 
iron in a tank and looked up. He was a big fellow 
and his lined face was wet by sweat. He knitted his 
brows as if he frowned unconsciously. 

“Howd’y, Jake. You’re back. Are you wanting 
something ?” 

“You want help, Bill, my partner, Carson, is your 
man. He was raised at an Old Country shipyard, 
but he can clean a cook stove, conjure with a shoe¬ 
string, and play the fiddle.” 

“Can he sharpen tools ?” Bill inquired. 

“Let me try,” said Kit, and the smith pulled some 
chisels from a box. Then he turned to Gordon. 


THE COOK’S MUSICIAN 


129 


“I don’t want you, Jake. Get going!” 

Gordon gave Kit a smile, and when he went off 
Kit looked about. A revolving shaft crossed the 
roof, and when he put a belt on a pulley, a small 
thick wheel began to spin. At the shipyard, Kit was 
for a time at the lathe-shop, and he thought he knew 
something about grinding tools. Moreover, he saw 
he must not bother the smith. He claimed he could 
sharpen tools and the fellow had given him the 
chisels. When Kit carried back the chisels he would 
know. The Canadians were a sternly logical lot. 

To hold the steel on the spinning stone absorbed 
Kit. He liked to mold the bevel and see the thick 
edge melt to an almost invisible line. The roll of 
the shaft and the noise the slapping belt made were 
soothing. Perhaps he had some talent for music, 
but he was, by inheritance, an engineer. After a 
time, Bill picked up a chisel and felt the edge. 

“Pretty good! You can go ahead.” 

Kit turned and pulled off the belt. 

“Pm sorry, but I can’t stay.” 

“Then why in thunder did you begin?” 

“Gordon thought you wanted help, but the boys 
will soon be ready for supper, and I left a tub of 
potatoes by the track. Jock expects me to cut the 
potatoes, and I think he’s asleep.” 

“Some folks get their dollars easy,” the smith re¬ 
marked. “Well, I reckon I could put you on the pay¬ 
roll, but I want you now.” 

“It’s awkward,” said Kit. “I’d sooner grind the 
tools, but when I arrived Jock gave me supper, and 
until he lets me go I’m his man.” 


130 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


“You get your grub; but you don’t know if I can 
hire you up?” 

“I don’t think it’s altogther my argument,” Kit 
replied. “If you like, I’ll come back in the morning.” 

“You make me tired,” said the smith. “You better 
cut your blamed potatoes. Get out!” 

Kit went and rather moodily helped the cook serve 
supper. In Canada a smith’s pay is good, but a 
minstrel’s reward was small. Moreover, at the 
smithy the glimmering forge, the red iron, and the 
rows of tools had called. There was Kit’s occupa¬ 
tion; he did not know much about cooking, and all 
he did know he did not like. When the plates were 
cleaned he went to the bridge-head and lighted his 
pipe. After breakfast he resolved to start for the 
water tank. By and by Gordon arrived, and when 
he noted Kit’s rueful look he smiled. 

“Bill wants you in the morning. The foreman 
agrees he can try you out.” 

“Then I expect you’re accountable,” said Kit. 
“Bill declared I made him tired and ordered me to be 
off.” 

“Bill is like that, but I reckon you don’t get us,” 
Gordon remarked with a grin. “You want to re¬ 
member you have done with the Old Country.” 

“It’s rather obvious,” said Kit. “All the same, I 
begin to think a good Canadian’s a first-class type. 
I won’t bother you by examples, but I met a young 
fellow at Winnipeg station I’d like to meet another 
time. However, Jock expects some music, and I’m 
in the mood to play a rousing tune.” 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE WATER CURE 

TN the morning Kit went to the forge. When he 
-®- arrived the smith was pulling about some iron, 
but by and by he gave Kit a nod. 

“You cut them potatoes?” 

“I expect you ate some for supper.” 

“Maybe so,” agreed the smith. “I don’t claim 
I’m sick!” 

Kit studied the fellow. Nothing indicated that he 
was humorous. His glance was hard and he pushed 
forward his heavy jaw. Kit, however, did not think 
him antagonistic. For the most part the bridge 
gang were a sober lot. 

“Shall I start the blower for you ?” he inquired. 

“You can start your wheel and grind them tools,” 
replied Bill. 

Kit got to work and the revolving grindstone bit 
the steel. Bill set the blower going and its rhythmic 
throb shook the iron walls. Blue flames danced about 
the forge, and the iron bedded in the coal began to 
shine. Bill, leaning down, turned the glowing lump 
and the reflections touched his face. The lines were 
deep and Kit remarked the white hair on his knitted 
brows. His large mouth was firm and his look was 
131 


132 CARSON OF RED RIVER 

grim. In the background smoke and dust floated 
about. 

Bill pulled the iron from the fire and the gloom 
was banished. The heavy hammer crashed and 
dazzling sparks leaped up. To steady the lump and 
use the hammer was awkward, but Kit stayed at the 
grindstone. Bill was not the man to whom one 
rashly offered help. 

After a time he gave Kit a bar, marked by a 
punch where holes must be made, and Kit clamped the 
iron on the machine-drill table. The wrench he used 
was worn and slipped on the nuts, and Bill gave him 
a sliding-jaw spanner. 

“When you’re through, put her in the box,” he 
said. 

Kit saw the spanner was a well-made, accurate tool. 
At the back of the jaw he noted two small holes, 
and he smiled. 

“To know your tools is useful,” he remarked. 

“Sure,” said Bill. “Anyhow, the spanner’s a 
daisy, and I don’t want her left about. When the 
slobs at the bridge drop their truck overboard they 
come for mine.” 

Kit drilled the holes and thought Bill was satis¬ 
fied. In the afternoon the forge was hot, but all 
he did interested him and he had sweated by ship¬ 
yard fires. For two or three days nothing disturbed 
him; and then a man from the bridge arrived one 
morning and threw down some tools. 

“You’ll grind them before you stop,” he said, and 
put a bar on the anvil. “Eye’s broke. We want 
her welded up. I’ll wait.” 


THE WATER CURE 133 

“That’s so,” said Bill dryly and resumed his 
hammering. 

The workman sat down and began to cut tobacco. 

“You don’t want to hustle for me; I’ll take a 
smoke. Mr. Austin’s waiting for the bar.” 

“Now you talk!” Bill remarked. “Mr. Austin’s 
the company’s engineer, but not long since you were 
slinging rails. I don’t want you near my tool rack. 
Skat!” 

The other pushed the keg he occupied farther from 
the wall, and by and by Bill beckoned Kit. Kit went 
to the anvil, and for a minute or two steadied the 
glowing iron Bill pulled from the forge. The ham¬ 
mer crashed on the hot metal, and Kit turned his 
head from the flying sparks. When the eye was 
welded Bill plunged the iron in the tank and threw 
it on the floor. 

“There’s your bolt. Light out!” 

The workman went off, and some time afterwards 
Kit moved some drills on a bench. 

“I don’t see the spanner.” 

Bill frowned. “If she’s gone, I know where she 
went. Railton was pretty smart.” 

“You think he picked up the tool when we welded 
the bolt? If that is so, I’m accountable, and I’ll go 
after the fellow. Suppose you give me a message 
for somebody at the bridge?” 

“If you went now, Railton would guess we were 
on his track. You want to wait until he gets careless. 
Maybe I’ll think of something in the afternoon.” 

Kit agreed, and at four o’clock he started for the 
bridge. The foreman said that the thickness of the 
stuff the smith inquired about was standard thick- 


134 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


ness, and he reckoned Bill ought to know. Kit went 
back along the platform and, stopping at the end, 
looked about. 

The afternoon was very hot and the river shone 
dazzlingly. An angry turmoil broke against the iron 
piers, and for some distance down-stream the cur¬ 
rent was marked by lines of foam. In the shadow 
of the trees on the high bank dark eddies revolved. 
Across the river, grass and poplar bluffs rolled back 
to the horizon. 

The landscape, however, did not much interest 
Kit and he studied the workmen. Some were oc¬ 
cupied on stages hung between the piers; some 
crawled about the lattice girders like spiders on a 
web; their figures were dark against the thin gray 
steel and shining water. The wind had dropped, 
and along the bank smoke and steam went straight 
up. In England Kit had not known the sun as hot. 

The men moved languidly, and where a big tie 
was hoisted two or three disputed. Kit thought it 
was the sort of afternoon on which a good foreman 
leaves the gang alone. For him to claim the forge 
spanner might make trouble; but he must get the 
tool. 

By and by he noted three or four men on a stage 
who lifted a heavy brace. They obviously meant 
to fasten the brace across the lattice for the riveters. 
Kit thought one was Railton, and he climbed to the 
stage. The men faced the lattice and did not notice 
his advance. The stage was four or five feet broad 
and the other side was open to the river, twenty feet 
below. Tools were scattered about the planks, but 
Kit did not see the spanner, and he stopped behind 


THE WATER CURE 135 

Railton. The fellow’s hip-pocket bulged and Kit be¬ 
lieved the spanner accounted for the bulge. 

“Can’t you hold up your end?” one of the gang 
inquired. 

“I’ve most got her fixed,” said Railton. “Ease 
her to me and the bolt will go through.” 

Kit knew Railton would in a few moments feel 
for the spanner, and something must be risked. 
Moving noiselessly, he pushed his hand into the 
bulging pocket. Railton’s hand went round his 
back, but he dared not let go the brace, and Kit 
pulled out the spanner. He stepped back, and strik¬ 
ing his foot against a tool-box, rolled across the 
planks. When he jumped up Railton blocked the 
way to the ladder. Railton’s face was red and he 
clenched his fist. 

“Did you reckon I carried my wad in my over¬ 
alls?” 

“I reckoned you carried Bill’s spanner,” Kit re¬ 
joined. 

“Maybe it was Bill’s, but all you can get out of 
the smithy is yours for keeps. Hand over!” 

Kit began to think he must fight for the tool, but 
he did not mean to do so unless he was forced. 
Railton was big and had, no doubt, for long been 
engaged in strenuous labor. Kit was rather lightly 
built, and at the drawing office one got soft. 

“If your argument’s good, the spanner’s mine. 
You see, I got the thing out of your pocket.” 

“One on you, Steve!” a man remarked. “Can 
you beat it ?” 

“Oh, shucks! I’ve no use for talking,” said Steve. 


136 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


“If you can keep the spanner for five minutes, Kid, 
Eli allow it’s yours.” 

Kit doubted. The platform was narrow and en¬ 
cumbered by the tool-box and a forge. He must 
fight on awkward ground, and he did not think his 
antagonist would use the rules of the boxing ring. 
He expected to be beaten, but if he refused the chal¬ 
lenge he must leave the camp. 

“I’ll try,” he said. 

Railton jumped across the platform, as if he 
trusted his weight and strength. Kit’s guard was 
beaten down and his jarred right arm dropped. He 
felt as if he were struck by a forge hammer, and he 
fell against the lattice. Another knock like that 
would put him out, and if he fell the other way he 
would go into the river. The foreman was some 
distance off and, if he resolved to stop the fight, a 
minute or two must go before he reached the spot. 

Kit edged away from the lattice and tried to 
maneuver. He hit Railton, and then the forge 
blocked his way and he took another knock. He 
knew his face was cut; he was dizzy and his breath 
was going. The group on the platform melted and 
his antagonist was indistinct. If he did not get 
back to the lattice he must go over the planks, and 
if he did get back Railton would batter him against 
the bars. All the same, he meant to stick to the 
spanner. 

Then Railton’s arm went round his neck, and he 
began to hope. On the narrow stage, where one 
could not get about, the other’s weight and mus¬ 
cular force counted for much; but he was a fool to 
clinch. When one wrestled by Cumberland rules one 


THE WATER CURE 


137 


did not need much room. Kit was something of a 
wrestler, and he knew his antagonist was not. In 
fact, if he could brace up for a minute or two. Rail- 
ton would pay for his rashness. Kit had turned his 
head and the fellow could not hit his face, and for 
him to use his heavy boots was risky. Railton’s 
legs would soon be occupied. 

Kit spread his legs, took a smashing blow on his 
ribs, and grimly felt for a good hold. When a 
Cumberland wrestler gets a good hold the struggle 
is over. Gasping and straining, he leaned forward 
and locked his arms round the other’s back. Then 
he stiffened his body, set his mouth, and lifted. 

Railton’s feet left the boards and he swayed in 
Kit’s tense arms. His body bent and his legs went 
up. Kit, battered and exhausted, let go and fell 
against the forge. Somebody shouted, men ran across 
the platform, and Kit saw Railton was not about. 
The fellow was in the river. Kit pushed back the 
others and jumped. 

The plunge braced him, and when he came up his 
dizziness was gone. Not far off he saw Railton’s 
head. The fellow tossed about in the broken water 
behind the columns, and when Kit tried to reach the 
spot an eddy swung him round. Railton vanished, 
but a few moments afterwards Kit’s leg was seized 
and he was strongly pulled down. He got loose and 
reached the surface. Railton came up behind him, 
pushed Kit’s head under, and let him go. 

Kit, fighting for breath, went down-stream. He 
thought he heard the men on the stage laugh, and 
he began to see the joke. He had gone to help a 


138 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


first-class swimmer. Railton, a yard or two off, 
turned and gave him a humorous grin. 

“You have surely got some gall! Steer for the 
bank. I’ll see you through.” 

They were carried down-stream, and when they 
struggled in the eddies along the steep bank Railton, 
a yard or two in front, seized a willow branch and 
stretched out his hand. 

“Hang on, sonny! I’ll boost you up.” 

“If you leave me alone, I can get up,” Kit gasped. 

“Get a holt,” said Railton. “You’re going to be 
pulled up.” 

Kit thought he saw a light. The men on the bridge 
were interested, and Railton played for their ap¬ 
plause. 

“Very well,” he said. “I stick to the spanner.” 

“That’s so,” Railton agreed, and seized Kit’s hand. 

The current swept Kit into the tree, and crawling 
through the branches, he reached the bank. Railton 
pulled him up a steep pitch, and at the top they saw 
a man on the path whose clothes were not a work¬ 
man’s clothes. 

“Mr. Austin! Now I beat it,” said Railton, and 
plunged into the trees. 

Kit stopped. He was battered, and doubted if he 
could go very fast. Moreover, to jump for the 
brush was ridiculous. He turned and faced the 
young fellow who gave him the cigarettes at Winni¬ 
peg station. Austin studied him with a twinkle. 
Kit’s face was cut and the water ran from his greasy 
clothes. 

“You have rather obviously got up against it,” 
Austin remarked. “What was the trouble?” 


THE WATER CURE 


139 


“I don't know that it was very important. Rail- 
ton claimed a spanner I didn't think was his," Kit 
replied. 

“A forge spanner ? Well, I’ve known Bill grumble 
about his tools vanishing, but a number of the boys 
stopped for some minutes to watch the fight, and the 
company won't stand for your holding up the gang." 

“I was not at all keen to fight, but I felt I must 
get the spanner,” said Kit, in an apologetic voice. 

“Steve Railton's a hefty fellow," Austin remarked. 
“Since you threw him off the stage, perhaps your 
jumping after him was humorous." 

“The joke was, I went to help a man who swims 
better than I. No doubt you noted he pulled me into 
the willows." 

“I imagine Steve wanted the boys to note it," said 
Austin dryly. “Another time, you must -wait until 
the whistle blows." 

He let Kit go, and Kit, starting for the forge, gave 
Bill the spanner. 

“I got it, but the job was harder than I thought." 

“Looks like that," the smith agreed. “Did Steve 
put you in the river ?" 

“I put Steve in," Kit replied modestly. “Then I 
thought I ought to go after him. I didn’t know he 
could swim.” 

“You have surely got some gall," said the smith 
with a hoarse laugh, and resumed his hammering. 

Kit noted the laugh. Although he had not known 
Bill laugh before, the fellow was human; but he 
had begun to shiver and he pulled off his wet clothes. 
The forge was very hot and the garments he did not 
pull off would soon dry. Kit could not put on other 
clothes because his trunk had not yet arrived. 


CHAPTER XV 


KIT MAKES PROGRESS 

F OR two or three weeks Kit was strenuously, and 
on the whole happily, occupied at the forge. 
When the sun was on the roof the iron shack got 
very hot, and sometimes the labor was severe, but 
Kit was interested and the pay was good. His trunk, 
broken by the baggage gang, had arrived, and in the 
cool evenings to put on clean clothes and play the 
violin for an attentive audience was some relief. 
Then he liked the smith. Bill was sternly quiet and 
admitted he had no use for politeness. As a rule, 
when he did talk, his remarks were aggressive, but 
he was a skilful workman and asked from his helper 
nothing he himself did not undertake. 

For all that, Kit sometimes brooded. If he re¬ 
mained until the bridge was built he would not be 
rich, and his ambition was not to help a smith. 
Moreover, he feared when the frost began the com¬ 
pany would pay him off, and in the North winter 
work was hard to get. Then he had promised he 
would not, for a stipulated time, write to Evelyn. 
She would be anxious for him, and since he had 
work, of a sort, he wanted her to know. 

Sometimes he speculated about Alison. She was 
140 


KIT MAKES PROGRESS 


141 


at Fairmead, and although the settlement was not far 
off, it was on another line. Kit did not know if 
she would stay for long, and when he put her on the 
car at Winnipeg he felt they said good-bye for good. 
All the same, he was sorry. Alison was a first-class 
pal; but she was gone, and he was Evelyn’s lover and 
must concentrate on mending his broken fortunes. 

When dusk began to fall one evening, he put up 
his violin and lighted his pipe. The men had gone 
to the bunk-house and all was quiet. Kit heard the 
current break against the piers, and in the distance 
cow-bells faintly chimed. He thought about the 
river that ran by the oaks at Netherhall. Somehow 
when he pictured Netherhall it was summer after¬ 
noon, and Evelyn and he walked in the shade. The 
cow-bells, however, struck a foreign note, and when 
Kit heard mosquitoes he frowned. 

By and by Austin came along the track. He was 
an athletic young fellow, but his look was thought¬ 
ful. Kit began to think the Canadians’ habit was to 
concentrate. None he so far knew was remarkably 
light-hearted. 

"I heard you play,” said Austin. “You have some 
talent; but for a construction camp, was not the 
music rather good?” 

“The boys did not grumble. My notion is, un¬ 
cultivated people like better music than some com¬ 
posers think. Anyhow, I risked it. I don’t know 
that I have much talent, but two or three Canadians 
informed me that I have some gall.” 

Austin smiled, for he thought the compliment 
justified. In a rather stern country, Kit’s joyous 
carelessness struck a foreign note. Then he was in- 


142 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


dependent, and North American democracy cultivates 
a type. All the same, Austin noted that when he 
began to talk Kit got up. Since work had stopped, 
Austin did not want the other to acknowledge him 
boss, and he sat down and lighted a cigarette. 

“Well, Bill wants to keep you, and he’s pretty 
fastidious about his helpers. I don’t know w r hat you 
think about staying; but I don’t know your proper 
occupation.” 

Kit hesitated. Austin was friendly, but Kit did 
not want to use his friendliness. He admitted he 
was perhaps extravagantly proud. 

“When I arrived I was a strolling musician and 
was glad to fiddle for my supper,” he said. “So 
long as Bill thinks me useful, I’m satisfied to re¬ 
main.” 

“Wheeler, the construction boss, is willing. I ex¬ 
pect you know Miss Forsyth has got a post at 
Fairmead?” 

“I don’t know,” said Kit, and his glance got keen. 
“In fact, I don’t altogether see-” 

“You may remember the lady who talked to Miss 
Forsyth at Winnipeg station? Well, sometimes I 
go home week-ends to Fairmead, and not long ago 
we met Miss Forsyth. She’s clerk at a creamery 
and was interested to know you were at the bridge.” 

“Fairmead’s on the other line. Do you go to 
Winnipeg?” 

“The conductor’s allowed to stop the cars at Wil¬ 
lows, and a flag station on the other line is not far.” 

Kit saw Austin thought him keen to go; in fact, 
he admitted Austin had perhaps some grounds to 
think him Alison’s lover. When Kit stated he did 



KIT MAKES PROGRESS 143 

not know she had got a post, Austin was clearly 
puzzled. 

“Oh, well/’ he said, “if I can get leave I’d like to 
see Miss Forsyth; but I mustn’t ask for a holiday 
yet. Anyhow, your stopping for a few moments at 
the waiting-room was kind. Before you came along 
we felt rather forlorn.” 

“Something of the sort was plain. The crowd was 
a foreign crowd and you were British. Then we 
saw your violin-case, and we doubted if you knew 
Canada, which for a beginner is a pretty hard coun¬ 
try. Well, Carrie and I were going home, and the 
contrast was rather marked. I expect it accounted 
for our stopping.” 

Kit wondered. Alison had accounted for the 
others’ stopping and he thought her supposition ac¬ 
curate. Fie began to talk about the bridge, and after 
a time Austin went to his office. 

On the whole. Kit thought he would not go to 
Fairmead. For one thing, the journey was awkward 
and they were busily occupied at the forge. More¬ 
over, he doubted if he ought to go. Alison’s charm 
was strong and he was flesh and blood. 

A week or two afterwards, when he raked up the 
fire one evening, Bill gave him some patterns he 
marked by chalk. 

“You’ll take the templates to Mr. Austin. I can 
make the truck the way he wants, but a square end 
costs less to forge and leaves more metal when you 
cut the slot. You want to show him-” 

Kit noted the smith’s remarks and after supper 
started for Austin’s office. The evening was cold 
and the woods were wet. For two or three days 



144 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


the rain had not stopped, and big drops splashed 
in the trampled mud along the track. 

When Kit pushed back the door Austin looked 
up and frowned. The lamp was lighted and the 
small room was hot, but Austin sat by the stove and 
had pulled a rug across his legs. When he saw Kit 
he put a drawing-board on the floor. 

“What’s the trouble?” he inquired. 

Kit told him, and Austin examined the patterns. 
“So long as the slots will take the cotters, Bill can 
forge the ends as he likes. But sit down and smoke 
a cigarette.” 

“It looks as if you were busy-” 

“I’m willing to stop,” said Austin, and shivered. 
“My back hurts and my head aches. A chill, maybe. 
The rain was pretty fierce and I used up all my dry 
clothes. Since I lay out in the mud at Paschen- 
daele I can’t stand for much wet and cold.” 

“Then you were in the big fight?” 

“For twenty-four hours I was in a flooded shell- 
hole, and when the stretcher-bearers found me I 
went to the hospital—a broken leg and rheumatic 
fever. All the use they had for me afterwards was 
at a base camp. Were you in France?” 

They talked about their adventures, but by and 
by Austin threw his cigarette in the stove and gave 
Kit the drawing-board. 

“My tobacco’s not good, and the plan must be 
ready in the morning. Perhaps you can reckon up 
the rivet-holes; I own I cannot. The spacing’s even 
and the holes must not finish on an odd number. I 
get one short.” 

Kit used Austin’s scale and dividers. “The holes 



KIT MAKES PROGRESS 145 

are accurately spaced. I expect you didn’t note that 
the end rivet goes through the gusset-plate.” 

“You have got it!” Austin agreed, and resolved 
to experiment, for he saw Kit knew the use of 
drawing-tools. 

“Another thing rather bothers me, and when I 
get a chill I’m not very bright,” he resumed. “The 
drawings of the girders on the wall were made at 
the head office, but I’m not satisfied about the bars 
in tension. I don’t want to bother Wheeler; some¬ 
times he gets annoyed.” 

Kit carried the drawings to the table and was 
absorbed. He did not see Austin studied him, and 
he forgot he was the smith’s helper. He thought 
the plan typically American. The scheme was bold 
and imaginative, and the engineers did not follow 
old-fashioned rules. Their object was to save labor 
and build with speed. Kit approved, but when he 
examined a detail plan he knitted his brows. The 
fellows were bolder than he had thought and his 
interest carried him away. 

“In tension, the ties would carry twenty-five tons 
to the square inch,” he said. “Your safety margin 
is not very large.” 

“The margin is large enough. In Canada we don’t 
build bridges for our grandchildren. We reckon 
they will not have much use for locomotives like 
ours.” 

“It’s possible,” said Kit. “All the same, your 
diagonal braces take some transverse strain, and you 
must reckon on the shearing effort across the bolts. 
I’d straighten three or four members. Like 
this-” 



146 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


He got a pencil, and Austin, with some surprise, 
studied the sketch. He thought Kit had solved the 
puzzle, and he resolved to talk to Wheeler about it 
in the morning. Kit was not the man to stay at the 
forge. 

“You are satisfied your plan would work?” 

“If the job were mine I’d try it; but I’m not a 
bridge architect,” Kit replied modestly. 

“Then what are you?” Austin inquired. 

Kit looked up and colored. Austin’s eyes were 
fixed on him and his glance was keen. 

“In the Old Country I was a shipbuilder’s drafts¬ 
man.” 

“Now I begin to see. The drawing office got 
monotonous ?” 

“Not at all,” said Kit. “I was fired.” 

Austin remarked his frankness, but he had reck¬ 
oned on Kit’s being frank. 

“Are you willing to talk about it?” 

“I don’t see much use in talking. The company’s 
firing somebody was logical. I claimed they had not 
spotted the proper man. Rut you’re not very well, 
and I expect you’re tired.” 

Austin agreed, and Kit went back to the bunk- 
house. In the morning a workman arrived at the 
forge. 

“The boss wants Carson at the office,” he said. 

Kit went with the man, who stopped at the door. 

“The gang dropped a big tie-rod overboard, and 
I guess he’s riled. You want to watch out,” he re¬ 
marked, and vanished. 

Somebody ordered Kit to come in, and when he 
rather nervously advanced Wheeler got up and put 


KIT MAKES PROGRESS 


147 


a plan on the table. Wheeler was a big fellow and 
his loose slicker exaggerated his bulkiness. His face 
was fleshy, his mouth was hard and his glance com¬ 
manding. Kit knew him for a good engineer and 
something of a bully. 

“Study up that bow-girder/’ he said. “The load 
she’s designed for is marked. Well, suppose we sent 
an extra big locomotive across, where do you reckon 
she’d go through?” 

“It’s obvious,” Kit replied, and indicated the spot. 

“Then how’d you strengthen her for a double 
load?” 

“I think I’d sooner build a fresh bridge; but I 
don’t know much about bridges.” 

. <f You’re not a railroad treasurer,” Wheeler re¬ 
joined. “Well, a construction problem is a construc¬ 
tion problem, whether you get up against it in a 
bridge or, for example, a ship. Suppose you were 
forced to strengthen the girder, where’d you start. 
Take ten minutes for a rough sketch. Use the tools 
in front of you.” 

Kit got to work and Wheeler lighted a cigar. By 
and by he picked up the sketch. 

“You were at an English shipyard. Why did 
you quit?” 

“Since Mr. Austin knows, I expect you know.” 

“Austin does not know much,” said Wheeler 
dryly. “I can’t force you to talk.” 

“A draftsman gave away some improvements the 
company could not patent. The chiefs suspected 
me.” 

Wheeler nodded. He knew men, and he thought 
if Kit had cheated he would have talked at length. 


148 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


“Well, there was no use in your applying at an¬ 
other yard? When you resolved to pull out, why 
did you fix on Canada ?” 

“Montreal was nearer than Melbourne. Then, 
you see, for a long time our folks were engineers 
and interested in Canadian industries.” 

Kit imagined Wheeler looked at him rather hard. 

“I expect Carsons are pretty numerous in the Old 
Country, but you state your lot are engineers. Do 
you know Jasper Carson?” 

“Jasper Carson of the Yorkshire forge is my 
uncle.” 

“I reckon he could have got you a fresh engage¬ 
ment.” 

“In the circumstances, I didn’t want to bother 
my relations. When I started for Canada I doubt 
if Jasper Carson knew where I went” 

Wheeler smiled, as if he saw a joke. “And you 
hit our bridge and hired up to help the smith ? Well, 
you surely have-” 

“To begin with, I helped the cook,” Kit inter¬ 
rupted. “I doubt if I have much gall, and I’d sooner 
know if you think I have some talent for engineer- 

•_ a 

ing. 

“Well try you out,” Wheeler replied with a 
chuckle, as if the joke got better. “On Monday 
you’ll go to Austin’s office, and if he thinks you use¬ 
ful, well fix your pay. In the meantime your job’s 
at the forge. Get to it.” 

Kit went back to the forge. He was puzzled but 
triumphant. In a few days he would resume his 
proper occupation, and he felt he made some progress. 



CHAPTER XVI 


KIT GOES VISITING 

K IT pushed some calculations across the office 
table, and tilting his chair against the wall, 
put his feet on the stove. His gum boots were bat¬ 
tered, but his clothes were good. His shirt was 
striped and his blue tie was knitted silk. The color 
harmonized with his blue eyes and sunburned skin. 
Scale drawings and patterns covered the cracked 
matchboard walls. Oil-drums occupied a comer, and 
measuring tools were on the table. In the austerely 
utilitarian office Kit’s careless pose was somehow 
foreign. 

Austin concentrated on some plans. His clothes 
were gray and his look was sober. Kit thought the 
tools and oil-drums were in the picture; Bob, so to 
speak, was utilitarian. He had recently married, and 
sometimes Kit speculated about Mrs. Austin. By 
and by Kit lighted a cigarette. 

“To slack up is something fresh, but on the whole 
I think I’m entitled to take a quiet smoke. I’d 
sooner play the fiddle, but Wheeler is about, and to 
inform the camp I’m relaxing might be rash. In 
Canada you’re a strenuous lot.” 

149 


150 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


“I expect that is so/’ Austin agreed. “Canada’s 
a hard country; one’s forced to hustle.” 

“You like to hustle; you feel loafing’s wrong. 
One senses the Puritan vein, and I imagine your 
ancestors were the folks we shipped off to New 
England when they made us tired. The reforma¬ 
tion had some drawbacks. It banished the joy of 
life.” 

“I reckon the Puritans went and had some trouble 
to make their get-away,” Austin rejoined. “My 
folks, however, are Ontario Scots, good old-fash¬ 
ioned Presbyterians. You’re another stamp, and I 
like your sporting clothes. I expect you burned the 
other lot?” 

“Not at all,” said Kit. “I gave Pete a dollar to 
boil the articles and they are in the trunk your bag¬ 
gage-handlers smashed. In the North of England 
we are not extravagant. Then, although my luck’s 
been pretty good, sometimes one’s luck turns.” He 
paused and gave Austin a friendly smile when he 
resumed: “I expect I owe my getting a soft job 
to your meddling, Bob.” 

“Oh, shucks! Wheeler’s pretty keen, and he had 
spotted you; but I want to talk about another thing. 
Wheeler will be around for the week-end, and since 
all is pretty straight I expect he’d give us a holiday. 
I’m going to Fairmead, and Carrie wants to meet 
you. Will you come along?” 

“If Wheeler agrees, I’ll be happy to go,” said Kit. 

Wheeler was willing, and when the construction 
train went down the line Kit was on board. A 
battered car waited at a flag-station by a tank and 
carried them noisily across the plain. Summer and 


KIT GOES VISITING 


151 


the boisterous winds and thunderstorms were gone. 
The afternoon was calm, and after his labors at the 
bridge Kit got a sense of brooding tranquillity. In 
the foreground the grass was gray and silver; in the 
distance all was misty blue. The sunshine touched 
the bluffs and ponds with subdued yellow light. 

The plain roiled, and the trail went up rises and 
plunged into ravines. Sometimes it curved round 
fences, and when fresh wire blocked the way the 
driver swore. 

“The blamed country’s filling up,” he said. “Not 
long since you could drive straight to the United 
States. Soon you’ll be forced to keep the road re¬ 
serve.” 

Brick homesteads and windmill frames began to 
dot the prairie, and Kit saw belts of wheat. Some¬ 
times the binders’ varnished arms tossed in the tall 
grain, but for the most part red-gold stooks dotted 
the long fields. Wagons rolled about the stubble, 
smoke trailed languidly across the sky, and dust 
clouds marked the spots where the threshers were 
at work. 

One machine was near the trail, and Kit saw chaff 
and beaten straw fall like a yellow cataract from the 
elevator. Where the stuff came down sweating men 
piled bags of grain. 

“A prairie, wheat bin; the fellow means to hold 
his crop,” Austin remarked. “When I first knew 
the prairie the storekeeper took the lot and charged 
ten per cent, on the bill he carried over. He couldn’t 
take the farm, because another fellow held a mort¬ 
gage. When the farmer had had enough, he quit, 
and all his creditors found was a notice, ‘Pulled 


152 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


out for British Columbia/ The hard men stayed 
with it, and although some grumble they acknowledge 
they got their reward. Well, railroading’s strenuous, 
but by contrast with farming I reckon it easy. 
What’s your notion, Dick?” 

The driver turned and grinned. “I’d sooner drive 
a flivver over the meanest trail. Them fellows began 
at sun-up and they won’t stop so long as they can see. 
Packing two-hundred-pound wheat-bags soon makes 
me tired.” 

“But what helped the farmers to make good?” 
Kit asked. 

“In Canada the question is, who helped? You 
think us a sober lot, but Nature’s our antagonist, 
and the fight is pretty stern. At the beginning, the 
settlers’ wheat rusted, was hailed out, and frozen 
in the fall. Then the scientific experimenter got to 
work. He cross-fertilized the plants and grew wheat 
that ripened before the frost arrived. To haul wheat 
a long distance to the elevators is expensive, and our 
railroad engineers pushed branch tracks across the 
plains. We don’t go where the traffic waits; we 
shove ahead into the wilds and the traffic follows us. 
Our roads are rough, but the cars get there.” 

“In Manitoba railroads will soon be numerous,” 
Kit remarked. “For all that, cultivation’s spotty. 
The province is an old province, but one crosses 
belts where one does not see a homestead. How 
do you account for it?” 

“Now I’m beaten! Perhaps our temperament 
accounts for something. We like fresh ground, 
and we like to go as far as possible. In the sandy 
belts, blowing grit cuts the wheat, and in places the 


KIT GOES VISITING 


153 


water’s alkaline. All the same, when you can get 
gumbo soil in Manitoba, to start for the Peace River 
isn’t sensible. In fact, on the plains settlement’s 
capricious. Saskatoon, so to speak, sprang up, but 
Regina’s growth was slow. Brandon’s old and small, 
and Fairmead, for example, has not grown for 
twenty years.” 

“Quit talking and hold tight!” said the driver, 
and they plunged into a ravine. 

Somehow they got round the corner by the narrow 
bridge, but the front wing was over the creek. On 
the hill in front the car rocked, rattled savagely, and 
stopped. 

“She won’t make it with three aboard,” said the 
driver. “You got to get down and shove.” 

Kit and Austin jumped down, and at a soft spot 
the other joined them, but he did not stop the engine. 

“The rut will hold her straight, and I guess she 
won’t get away from us,” he said. 

Kit looked up the curving trail. The boggy soil 
was torn by wheels and the pitch was very steep. 
Small poplars and willows covered the awkward 
slope. 

“I think you might risk it.” 

“When Blain was riding to the station one day 
his car stalled. He got down to shove some brush 
under her wheels. She knocked him over and went 
off.” 

“Where did she go ?” Kit inquired. 

“I wasn’t around,” said the driver. “Blain al¬ 
lowed she went up a tree!” 

They pushed the car up the hill, and when they 


154 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


got on board Kit remarked: “To haul their wheat 
across must bother the farmers.” 

“They use the new elevators along our line,” 
Austin replied. “Before the track was built they 
dumped their loads at the bridge and carried the 
bags across the boggy piece. A four-bushel bag 
weighs pretty near two hundred and fifty pounds.” 

“Something of a job where ravines are numer¬ 
ous!” said Kit in a thoughtful voice. “One likes 
the fellows’ pluck.” 

By and by they got down at a small station, and 
soon afterwards a black smoke plume rolled across 
the plain. The locomotive hauled two cars, and Kit, 
sitting by a window, saw shining ponds, birch and 
poplar bluffs, and rows of stooked sheaves on yellow 
stubble. The light was going, but men and teams 
labored in the fields and the smoke from the thresh¬ 
ers floated about the sky. 

At Fairmead three grain elevators like castles 
broke the sweep of plain. Dim lights burned behind 
high windows and wheels throbbed. Dark boxcars 
blocked the tracks and a yard locomotive pushed a 
fresh row across the switches. The beams from the 
engines’ headlamps joined, and for half a mile the 
silver light flashed along a waiting train. The new 
wheat was going East. 

When Kit left the station he thought Fairmead 
marked by a prosperous and friendly calm. The 
wide street was evenly graded and went up a gentle 
incline. The wooden sidewalks were broad and level, 
and a printed notice warned strangers that one was 
fined for expectorating on the boards. 

Two wooden hotels and three or four stores occu- 


KIT GOES VISITING 


155 


pied the bottom of the hill, and Kit noted indistinct 
groups on the verandas and the grocery steps. Be¬ 
hind the sidewalks were trees and garden lots. The 
trees were small, for the prairie winds are keen, and 
the gardens were not fenced. To look up the hill 
was like looking across a long, narrow lawn. 

Kit thought the little frame houses picturesque, 
but they got indistinct and for the most part the 
lamps were not lighted. The evening was calm, and 
quiet voices indicated that family groups took the 
air by the front porch. One, however, heard mos¬ 
quitoes, and sometimes Kit rubbed his neck. He 
approved Fairmead. For a prairie settlement, the 
town was old, and it looked as if the citizens were 
rather tranquilly satisfied than vulgarly ambitious. 

At the top of the street Austin went up a short 
path. Lights pierced the trees in front of a house, 
and Kit thought about the evening Alison and he 
went drearily along the avenue by the river at Winni¬ 
peg. Now he was not a stranger, but he speculated 
about Alison. He wondered whether she was happy, 
and resolved to find out. 

A woman came down the steps and kissed Austin. 
She gave Kit her hand and they went into the house. 
The matchboarded hall was narrow, and when Mrs. 
Austin pushed back a door Kit stopped, for Alison 
got up from a chair in the little room. Her clothes 
were fashionable, her pose was confident, and her 
look was bright. Kit had known she had charm, 
but now he felt her charm was marked, and when 
he saw her smile was for Austin he was moved by 
unreasonable jealousy. Then she saw Kit, and a 
touch of color came to her skin. 


156 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


“Why, Kit! I didn’t know-” 

Kit advanced, and when Alison gave him her 
hand her look was frank and kind. 

“I didn’t know,” he said. “The joke is Mrs. 
Austin’s. All the same, I meant to look you up.” 

Alison said nothing. She could talk to Kit again, 
and she wondered. On the whole, she thought Mrs. 
Austin experimented. 

Mrs. Austin beckoned Kit and he was presented 
to Miss Florence Grey. Miss Grey declared politely 
she was pleased to meet him, but he felt her searching 
glance was hostile. Moreover, he was puzzled. 
Alison had talked about joining an English friend, 
but he thought Miss Grey altogether North Ameri¬ 
can. Her accent, her clothes, and her rather aggres¬ 
sive look certainly were not English. 

“You were some time at the bridge?” she said, 
as if Kit’s being there was an offense. 

“That is so,” he agreed. “JVhen they allowed me 
to stop I was lucky.” 

“Perhaps your job’s important,” Miss Grey re¬ 
marked. “Bob Austin comes over week-ends, but 
then he’s a boss.” 

“I dare say that explains it. You see, the boys eat 
on Sundays, and when you help the cook you can’t 
very well get off.” 

“Don’t I know?” said Miss Grey in a scornful 
voice. “For some time I was at a prairie farm, and 
loafing men eat double. But did you help the cook?” 

“Sure,” said Kit. “I cut potatoes, fried pork, 
and cleaned the plates.” 

Miss Grey coolly studied him. Kit’s clothes were 



KIT GOES VISITING 157 

good; he was rather a handsome fellow and one got 
a hint of cultivation. 

“Then, since they let you stop, I reckon your luck 
was good.” 

“One on you, Kit!” said Austin. “But supper’s 
ready. Come along.” 

They went to another room, and when Kit saw 
Miss Grey opposite him across the table he was 
rather resigned than pleased. She, however, was 
Alison’s friend and he gave her an interested glance. 
She was thin and her mouth was ominously firm, 
but although her look was scornful he thought her 
sincere. Her color was not, like Alison’s, delicate 
and fresh. Miss Grey had occupied small rooms 
and borne the stove’s dry heat; she, rather evidently, 
used powder. 

“You’re a Toronto girl, Carrie,” she remarked to 
Mrs. Austin. “Toronto folks have homes and don’t 
live at restaurants. I hope you won’t hustle us. I 
like to squander a few minutes over supper.” 

“We will not get up until you wish to, and if you 
like, we’ll stop for half an hour. How long do they 
allow you at the bridge, Mr. Carson?” 

“At the bunk-house ten minutes, and as a rule I 
was left. When Bob and I dine at the office fifteen 
minutes sees us out. You’re a hospitable lot, but to 
hold on for half an hour at Western speed is im¬ 
possible.” 

“Then you think us hospitable?” 

“I have some grounds, ma’am. When I got off 
the cars, I was tired and hungry, but my wad was 
five dollars, and I saw I must not be extrava- 



158 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


“Was that all, Kit?” Alison inquired, and blushed. 

“About five dollars,” said Kit with some em¬ 
barrassment. “Well, a storekeeper gave me an iced 
drink and a can of fruit. At the bridge the cook 
gave me supper and appointed me his musician. 
Soon afterwards a man I met on the cars got me a 
job at the forge. When you know yoUrselfi a 
stranger things like that weigh.” 

“Jock’s a Scot,” Austin remarked. 

“He was born in Scotland, and the storekeeper 
stated he was sent out by an English orphanage; but 
they’re now Canadians. One observes that when an 
Old Country man has been a few years in Canada 
he is stanchly Canadian. I expect the fellows who 
don’t like you soon go back.” 

“It’s possible,” said Austin and gave Miss Grey a 
smile. “You’re good mixers.” 

Florence Grey looked up and her eyes sparkled. 

“In England I was poor and nobody had much 
use for me. For long I went without proper food; 
I wore shabby clothes and lived at crowded lodgings. 
In Manitoba I got a fighting chance and fair pay 
for all I did. I’m happy at Fairmead and my friends 
are good. Canada’s my country; I’ve no use for 
the other.” 

Austin was quiet and Kit said nothing. He 
thought Miss Grey challenged him, but he was not 
going to dispute. Although he thought poverty did 
not altogether account for her bitterness, her argu¬ 
ment was logical. 

“I rather think in Canada we use a standard 
model,” Mrs. Austin remarked. “We are a democ- 


KIT GOES VISITING 159 

racy, and a democracy works for a uniform type. 
Well, it has some advantages-” 

“So long as the type’s a good type, ma’am,” said 
Kit. 

Mrs. Austin smiled. “Your approval’s flattering, 
but I have known Englishmen who did not agree. 
Their model was not our model. There’s the draw¬ 
back of standardizing.” 

By and by she got up. Austin went with Kit and 
Alison to another room, put out some cigarettes, and 
vanished. A rattling noise indicated that Mrs. Aus¬ 
tin carried off the plates, and Kit thought Bob and 
Miss Grey helped. All was strangely like the sup¬ 
pers at Blake’s flat, but Kit did not want to dwell on 
that. Alison occupied the little couch, and he would 
sooner talk. 

“Perhaps the couch suggests it, but I see you on 
the bench at Winnipeg station,” he remarked. 

“Ah,” said Alison, “don’t you see the emigrants 
lying about the flags?” 

“They’re the background for the picture,” said 
Kit. “When I think about the waiting-room, the 
crowd is indistinct.” 

Alison gave him a friendly smile. “You cheated 
me on the train. You forced me to take your 
sleeper ticket, and I did not pay for half the food. 
Yet all you had was five dollars.” 

“You didn’t get half the food,” Kit rejoined. 
“Perhaps I was not quite honest about the ticket, 
but I admitted my dishonesty before.” 

“Well, I oughtn’t to be embarrassed because you 
were kind; but I didn’t know, and, by contrast, I 



160 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


was rich. Besides, I was going to Florence, and you 
had not a friend.” 

“I had my fiddle, and the trail was open. I’d 
wanted to be a minstrel and I got my chance, but I 
admit I didn’t reckon on fiddling for the cook.” 

“In a way, it was humorous,” said Alison in a 
gentle voice. “When Austin told me I laughed, 
but I wasn’t altogether amused. Sometimes one 
laughs when one is sorry. Yet I liked to think about 
your getting up at daybreak and playing for the men. 
You see, Austin talked about you; he knew I was 
interested.” 

Kit was rather embarrassed. Alison had followed 
his adventures, but he had not bothered to find out 
about her. All the same, he had wanted to find out. 
The obstacle was, he was going to marry Evelyn, 
and he was flesh and blood. 

“I’d sooner you told me something about your¬ 
self,” he said. 

“Alison indulged him. She had found a post at a 
creamery. On the whole, she liked the post and the 
pay was good. That was all. When she stopped 
Miss Grey came in. 

“On the plains men help clean up after supper, but 
I expect you had enough at the camp,” she said to 
Kit. “Your sort’s fastidious.” 

“Do you know' my sort?” Kit inquired. 

“Oh, yes. In the Old Country I knew one or two 
like you. The stamp is plain, but in Manitoba it’s 
not admired.” 

Kit was puzzled. He wondered whether Miss 
Grey was antagonistic to the stamp she thought he 


KIT GOES VISITING 161 

wore or to him himself. To see Mrs. Austin arrive 
was some relief. 

“Oh, well,” he said. “I have cleaned supper 
plates, and my notion is, where food must be served 
and the tables cleared at high speed, a man can beat 
a very active woman. Would you like to try?” 

“Mrs iVustin’s plates are thin, and in Canada 
crockery is expensive. The food men cook at con¬ 
struction camps only construction gangs can eat.” 

“Yet you declare I’m fastidious!” 

“I expect you were hungry. A man’s appetite is 
remarkable,” Miss Grey rejoined. 

“You must not dispute, and Mr. Carson is going 
to play for us,” said Mrs. Austin, and Kit tuned his 
violin. 

At ten o’clock Miss Grey stated firmly that she 
and Alison must go, and Kit turned to Austin. 

“Cannot we fix up a picnic for to-morrow, Bob? 
I expect I could get a car.” 

“Your idea’s good. Lost Lake’s picturesque,” 
Austin agreed. 

“You mustn’t reckon on me,” said Miss Grey. 
“If I go, Ted Harries will drive me to the lake.” 

“But you will go with Mrs. Austin ?’ y Kit asked 
Alison. 

“I’d like to go,” said Alison, and when she went 
off all was arranged. 

Mrs. Austin did not come back from the porch, 
and Austin gave Kit a cigarette. 

“Florence rather got after you!” 

“I really don’t see why I annoyed her. I felt as 
apologetic as I felt when I faced the lady at the rail¬ 
road inquiry office.” 


162 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


Austin smiled. “Florence is certainly fierce, but 
she’s stanch, and so long as she is about nobody will 
hurt Alison. When she arrived she was employed as 
bookkeeper at Jason’s grocery. Jason’s old and 
something of a slouch; his wife is an invalid, but they 
were good to Florence and she’s a first-class business 
woman. When she took control all went straight, 
and Jason’s customers found out they must meet their 
bills. The opposition store tried to bribe her by high 
pay, but Florence stops with Jason. Now perhaps 
you get her. JVell, let’s join Carrie on the porch.” 


CHAPTER XVII 


LOST LAKE 

A LIGHT wind moved the poplar branches and 
. sparkling ripples rolled across Lost Lake. 
Along the margin the cracked mud was white with 
salt; the leaves in the bluff were going yellow and 
cut the turquoise sky. In the distance belts of stubble 
reflected the sunshine and withered grass rolled back 
to the horizon. The lake was perhaps not beautiful, 
but Kit acknowledged the spacious landscape’s tran¬ 
quil charm. 

At one time Lost Lake was a landmark for the 
Hudson Bay courreurs steering south behind their 
dog-teams for the Assiniboine. Now a wagon trail 
went by the bluff, and, some distance off, railroad 
telegraph posts melted in the grass. The courreurs 
were long since gone, and on summer holidays picnic 
parties from two prairie towns arrived on board 
noisy automobiles. 

Alison occupied a birch log under the trees; Kit 
lay in the grass and smoked. A hundred yards off 
Austin was engaged at the car. It looked as if he 
were annoyed and Mrs. Austin soothed him. 

‘‘Carrie’s proper plan is to leave Bob alone,” said 
Kit. “If she stops much longer I expect he will 
163 


164 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


break something. When you’re up against an ob¬ 
stinate engine to talk politely is hard.” 

“Perhaps one ought to use some control,” Alison 
remarked. “But you are an engineer. Cannot you 
help?” 

“I doubt,” said Kit. “The makers claim a flivver’s 
foolproof, and my clothes are rather good. Then 
until Bob’s satisfied he won’t stop. The engine 
ought not to knock, and he’s resolved to see it does 
not. Since the car is not his, I don’t think he’s 
reasonable.” 

“Your argument is rather labored. You feel you 
must justify your selfishness?” 

“Sometimes selfishness is justified, and I expect 
Miss Grey will soon arrive. It looks as if she 
thought I ought not to talk to you unless she’s 
about. Well, I want to talk to you; I don’t want to 
dispute with your friend.” 

Alison smiled. “Florence is a useful friend, and 
she does not really dislike you. She rather doubts 
all she thinks you stand for.” 

“Since she’s aggressively democratic and I stand 
for small pay and strenuous labor, I don’t see much 
light.” 

“'Florence is keen,” said Alison and gave Kit a 
thoughtful glance. “She thinks you the English 
college and country house type: for example, the 
Netherhall type.” 

“Sometimes I did stop at Netherhall for a holiday, 
but it was not my home. My father was not rich, 
and my poverty’s obvious. Why does Miss Grey 
hate the Netherhall type?” 

“I don’t altogether know, Kit, but I feel she has 


LOST LAKE 


165 


good grounds- t Well, I oughtn’t to speculate 

about it, and I owe her much. She got me my post 
at the creamery, and, in order to be with me, she 
stops at the boarding-house. L We have one room, 
the dining-room, for fourteen people; you cannot be 
alone, and sometimes you get tired of the crowd.” 

“A crowd is tiresome,” Kit agreed in a sympa¬ 
thetic voice. “In Canada one is never alone. The 
Canadians are a co-operative, gregarious lot; anyhow 
they go about in flocks. If Miss Grey went to an¬ 
other house, I expect she would not get much space 
and quiet.” 

“The grocery is large. Jason is old and his wife 
gets infirm. They are kind people and want Florence 
to live with them; but, for my sake, she comes to the 
boarding-house as soon as the store is shut.” 

“Ah,” said Kit, “I begin to like Miss Grey; but 
if she had waited a little longer I would not have 
grumbled-” 

He indicated a large red motorcycle. A tall thin 
young man leaned over the handles and his glance 
was fixed in front; Miss Grey was on the carrier, 
and her clothes blew in the wind. The machine 
lurched and jolted, the engine fired explosively, and 
the blue exhaust stained the tossing dust. Kit, study¬ 
ing the broken trail, understood the driver’s concen¬ 
tration. At the edge of the bluff Miss Grey jumped 
down and the other stopped the motorcycle. 

“She made it!” he shouted in a triumphant voice. 
“The sand belt was fierce, but we went through like 
a snow-plow.” 

“We came off twice,” Miss Grey remarked, and 
beat her dusty clothes. 




166 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


Then she called her companion, and Kit was pre¬ 
sented to Mr. Ted Harries. Harries was tall and 
carried himself awkwardly. His bony wrists and 
ankles were conspicuous, as if his clothes had been 
made for a standard figure. Miss Grey stated that 
he was a grain storage company’s clerk, and he gave 
Kit a friendly grin. 

“You’re the fellow who put the railroad man off 
the bridge? I’m surely pleased to meet you. If 
you’ll put my boss off the elevator, I’ll loan you my 
wheel.'” 1 

“I mightn’t be as lucky another time. To know 
where to stop is useful,” Kit remarked. 

“See you again,” said Harries and seized Miss 
Grey. “Bob Austin’s up against it, and maybe I can 
help him out. Come on, Florence! Alison has no 
use for you!” 

Kit laughed. “I think I like Ted! Florence is 
gone, but I imagine she means to come back, and 
you have not yet told me much about Fairmead. For 
example, where did you meet Mrs. Austin?” 

“She was at the grocery when I went for Florence 
one evening, and she knew me. She and Bob had 
come from the train and were bothered because their 
house was not ready. In an hour Florence put all 
straight. At the settlement she’s important.” 

“It’s rather plain. When Harries firmly led her 
off I thought his nerve was good. But perhaps Miss 
Grey approves his type?” 

Alison smiled. “I think Ted attracts Florence be¬ 
cause he’s a contrast from another she knew in 
England; but you inquired about the Austins. 
Carrie’s charming, and to go to her house is like 


LOST LAKE 


167 


going home. Then she’s cultivated; I think her 
father was a lecturer at Toronto University, but 
she’s happy to keep her husband’s house, and al¬ 
though they must be frugal she does not grumble. 
I expect you know Austin’s pay is not large. Per¬ 
haps it’s strange, but I think people who are poor are 
kindest.” 

“Bob’s a first-class sort and to know his wife’s 
your friend is some relief. But do you like your 
job at the creamery?” 

“I’m satisfied. I was not as rich before, and so 
long as I carry out my orders nobody bothers me. I 
don’t know about the winter, but if I’m not wanted, 
Florence thinks she can get me another post.” 

“Well, I like to know you’re content. For a time 
I was rather disturbed about you.” 

“Yet you did not inquire,” Alison remarked in 
a quiet voice. 

“That is so,” Kit admitted with some embarrass¬ 
ment. “All the same-” 

He stopped, for Alison gave him a queer smile. 

“You thought you ought not? Well, a good 
friend is worth much, and I’d sooner not think you 
were altogether willing to let me go. But Austin has 
put the engine straight, and Carrie wants help to 
serve our lunch.” 

She joined Mrs. Austin, but Kit stopped and 
pondered. His emotions were rather mixed, but he 
was glad Alison had not wanted him to let her go. 
Now he thought about it, it was all she had really 
told him. Alison did not try to move one; one 
liked her for her friendly calm. 

Lunch was a cheerful and rather noisy function, 


168 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


for Florence and Harries disputed and sometimes 
she entangled Kit in humorous argument. When 
the meal was over and the others went off he helped 
Mrs. Austin clean the plates. He knew she wanted 
him to stop, and after they re-packed the basket he 
brought her a rug and sat in the grass. The wind 
dropped and the calm lake shone. The afternoon 
was hot, but the shadow of the bluff crept across 
the spot. 

Mrs. Austin was young, but Kit, studying her, 
got a sense of maturity; he knew her thoughtful 
and sincere. Although she was obviously cultivated, 
she was somehow franker than the Englishwomen 
he had known. She told him to smoke and he lighted 
a cigarette. He felt she waited for him to talk, and 
although she did not indicate the line she wanted 
him to take, he thought he knew. 

“Until Bob told me Miss Forsyth was at the 
creamery and came to your house I was anxious for 
her,” he said. “Now I know she has good friends, 
I want to thank you, ma’am.” 

“We thought you philosophical,” Mrs. Austin re¬ 
marked, and gave him a steady glance. 

Kit hesitated, and then took a photograph from 
his wallet. 

“The ground’s awkward; but perhaps the por¬ 
trait makes things plainer.” 

Mrs. Austin studied the picture. The girl was 
beautiful and somehow thoroughbred. To contrast 
her and Alison was perhaps ridiculous. For one 
thing, Alison was not beautiful; yet she had a charm 
the other had not. 


LOST LAKE 169 

“1 think I see! You are going to marry the 
English girl?” 

“If I make good—Alison knows,” Kit replied. 
“I feel I must make good. When others doubted 
and all was dark, Evelyn trusted me. I expect 
you know why I lost my English post?” 

Mrs. Austin gave him back the portrait and her 
look was kind. 

“Yes. Bob thinks you did not tell him all, and 
the shipyard chief did not spot the proper man.” 

“I felt I ought to satisfy you,” said Kit with an 
apologetic smile. “You have helped Alison and I 
owe Bob much. In fact, now I think about it, when 
we met you at Winnipeg our luck began to turn. 
Well, I suppose you imagined—I don’t know about 
Alison, but I was embarrassed.” 

“In some circumstances a girl is less embarrassed 
than a man. I rather think Alison saw why we tried 
to encourage you.” 

Kit said nothing, and Mrs. Austin resumed: 
“Well, I admit I was romantically sympathetic. I 
had not long before promised to marry Bob.” 

“Then I suppose Bob was at Toronto? Toronto’s 
your home town?” 

“Bob was at the University; I talked to him for 
ten minutes at a college function. Afterwards I did 
not see him until I visited relations at Winnipeg, 
three weeks before we met you at the station waiting- 
room.” 

For a few moments Kit mused. Mrs. Austin was 
frank, and he wondered whether she meant to indi¬ 
cate that she was his friend. 

“Ah,” he said, “I suppose one knows-” 



170 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


Mrs. Austin smiled, but he thought the look she 
gave him queer. 

“One knows the real thing.” 

Kit wondered. For long he had hoped to marry 
Evelyn, if he got rich; but until he must start for 
• Canada she had not moved him to keen romantic 
passion. All the same, one did not talk about things 
like that, and he must not bore Mrs. Austin. 

“Fairmead’s an attractive spot; but after Toronto 
I expect it’s sometimes dreary,” he said. “The ad¬ 
vantage is, Bob can get home from the bridge.” 

“The advantage is important; but I doubt if we 
will stay for long. Bob’s ambitious and has talent. 
Besides, the bridge will presently be built.” 

“It will not be built before the river freezes and 
much of the work must stop; but I understand, as 
far as possible, the engineers will carry on.” 

“Are you anxious about your post?” 

Kit was rather anxious, but he laughed. “I hope 
Wheeler may have some use for me, but if he has 
not, I can take the road and play the fiddle. You, 
however, have got a pretty house, and if the company 
sent Bob back to the workshops you would be forced 
to quit.” 

“Bob believes Wheeler has some use for you. If 
he went to the workshops for the winter, I would be 
resigned. The trouble is, he thinks to help finish 
the bridge would lead to his promotion, and he’s very 
keen. Sometimes I cannot persuade him I’m satis¬ 
fied with a little house and cheap furniture.” 

“Your husband’s a first-class engineer and ought 
to go ahead.” 

“For all that, he carries an awkward load. His 


LOST LAKE 


171 


pluck is fine, but he was very ill in France, and he 
cannot stand for much wet and cold. On the plains 
in winter the cold is fierce.” 

Kit pictured Austin’s shivering by the stove, and 
thought Mrs. Austin’s doubts justified; but since he 
did not know if Bob had talked about it, he must 
not. 

“After all, our job at the bridge is softer than 
the workmen’s, and if Bob is cautious-” 

“It looks as if you did not know Bob; but I think 
you are his friend, and perhaps you can induce him 
not to be rash. Then you can see he puts on dry 
clothes and gets proper food. You can keep the 
stove going, and so forth-” 

Kit imagined it was not all Mrs. Austin wanted. 
The important thing was, she acknowledged him 
her husband’s friend. 

“Where it’s possible for me to help I promise to 
do so,” he said and Mrs. Austin got up. 

“Thank you, Kit. Let’s join the others.” 

Two or three hours afterwards they boiled a kettle 
and brewed tea. The shadows were longer and half 
the lake was dark, but the sunshine was on the plain. 
In the distance gray smoke stained the sky, and 
going black, advanced across the grass. Then metal 
began to sparkle, and one saw a locomotive, rolling 
dust and a row of cars. The train dominated the 
landscape, and Kit thought it half a mile long. 

“The new wheat is going East,” said Mrs. Austin. 
“Two thousand tons, I reckon, and to haul a load 
like that is some exploit. Well, I own when I see 
the big wheat trains I get a thrill. Before the rail¬ 
road crossed the plains Manitoba was the halfbreeds’ 



172 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


furs preserve, and when I was a girl and visited at 
Winnipeg the mills could hardly use the broken 
farmers’ frost-nipped grain. Now the farmers are 
getting rich, and Manitoba flour goes across the 
world. Well, my husband’s a railroad builder, and 
I suppose I mustn’t boast.” 

“After all, the farmers grow the wheat,” Austin 
remarked and pulled out his watch. “Kit and I 
must be at the bridge in the morning, and we ought 
to shove off.” 

Harries went for his motorcycle, Florence jumped 
up, and the big machine rolled noisily away. When 
the rocking figures vanished behind the bluff Austin 
laughed and steered his car into the trail. 

“Florence’s nerve is pretty good, but if Ted drives 
like that in the sand belt, something’s coming to 
her.” 

The car started, and Kit, sitting at the back with 
Alison, was sorry to go. After the turmoil at the 
bridge, to loaf about the quiet wood and talk to’Ali¬ 
son was soothing. Now his holiday was almost gone, 
he felt melancholy, but they were not yet at Fair- 
mead and he began to joke. 

The trail was torn by wheels and long grass grew 
between the ruts. The car rocked and the wheels 
skidded, but until the track pierced the sand belt they 
made progress. At an awkward corner Austin 
stopped, and Kit saw the motorcycle a few yards in 
front. Harries had pulled off his coat and knelt by 
the machine. His face was red and his hands were 
smeared by sooty oil. 

Miss Grey sat in the sand. Her eyes sparkled, 
and dark spots on her clothes indicated engine grease. 


LOST LAKE 


173 


“She jumped the track and fired us,” Harries 
shouted. “Something’s broke and I guess I’m beat. 
You're engineers. Come on and help 1” 

Austin pulled out his watch. “Sorry, Ted, but 
unless we’re at the bridge in the morning the chief 
will make trouble. Can I loan you some tools?” 

“I’d like a big hammer,” said Harries meaningly. 
“Anyhow, be a sport and take Florence along. She 
reckons she can show me, but she doesn’t know the 
first thing about a wheel.” 

“I know all Ted knows,” Florence rejoined. “If 
he’d let me help, the engine would start, but he gets 
mad and throws things about. A man ought to be 
calm.” 

“Well, I won’t give Ted the hammer, but you 
had better get on board. You see, our train won’t 
wait.” 

“Then, start your car. I’m not going!” 

“I sure like Florence, but she’s blamed obstinate,” 
Harries remarked. 

“Jump up, Florence,” said Alison. “You can't 
help and you embarrass Ted.” 

“Ted ought to be embarrassed,” Florence re¬ 
joined. “He bothered me to go to the lake, and if 
he’s forced to wheel me he’s got to take me home.” 

Austin started the car and smiled. 

“Florence is a sport. All she really wants is to 
see Ted out. If they don’t arrive soon, you must 
send the garage boys along for them, Carrie.” 

Although the trail was uneven, he drove faster. 
The red sunset melted and the plain got blue and 
dim. Elevator towers began to cut the sky and silver 


174 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


beams from locomotive lamps pierced the gloom. 
After a time, the lights got dazzling and bells tolled. 
One saw rows of houses and dark wheat cars. The 
automobile bumped across the rail, and Kit’s holi¬ 
day was over. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


MRS. AUSTIN MEDDLES 

C HAINS rattled, an iron pulley clanked, and 
Kit went down the ladder. The heavy steel 
frame tilted, but its end had not yet reached the 
proper spot, and the men stopped for breath. To 
leave the mass suspended for the night was risky, 
and Kit meant to make all fast before the whistle 
blew. Jumping from the ladder, he joined the gang. 

“Get to it, boys!” he shouted. “Heave and swing 
her home!” 

The men bent their backs, but the pulley wheels 
did not turn. The gang was beaten, and if the 
chain stoppers did not engage smoothly, the load 
might get away and plunge through the lower plat¬ 
forms to the river. Then Kit saw the man in front 
was Railton, whom he had put off the bridge. 

“You can’t pull, Steve. We must give you a 
softer job.” 

“I reckon I’d pull you off your feet,” the other 
gasped. 

“Show me!” said Kit. “Try again, boys. Steve 
claims he can boost her. Stay with it; that’s great! 
She’s going!” 

The frame went, the stoppers held, and a man 
175 


176 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


carrying the fastening bolts climbed the ladder. 
Railton turned and rubbed his sweating face with 
a greasy rag. 

“Looks as if I could pull some! [Where's your 
soft job?" 

“To get mad is foolish, Steve/' Kit remarked 
with a grin. “When a soft job is going I won't 
forget you." 

He went up the ladder and stopped at a high 
platform. The plain was gray and the trees along 
the bank were bare. The river was dark and black 
ice covered the slacks. Thin floes drifted down the 
open channel and broke against the bridge piers. 
The noise they made was monotonous and like the 
hum of a small circular saw. All was bleak, the 
light was going, and the wind was cold. In a few 
minutes work would stop, but Kit must see Wheeler, 
and he crossed the bridge. 

The office was very hot and smelt of tobacco and 
kerosene. Wheeler rested his feet on the wood box, 
and when Kit came in put up some letters and 
tilted his chair. 

“Well?" he said. 

“We have fixed the tie." 

“That's good! I want the heavy braces in before 
she freezes up; when the ice breaks the piers must 
stand some thrust. The trouble is, we can't get the 
stuff from the rolling mills. [Well, do you like it at 
the bridge?" 

“I don't grumble," Kit replied. “In fact, if you 
suggested it, I think I'd hold my job." 

“You're not a Canadian and the cold is fierce. 
Unless you wear mittens, you can't handle iron; 


MRS. AUSTIN MEDDLES 177 

anyhow, you can’t let go. Eve known men frozen by 
a blizzard a hundred yards from camp.” 

“Still you mean to carry on.” 

“I doubt if all we can do will meet the pay-roll, 
but we can’t shut down. We’re up against another 
company, and the railroad engineers want a number 
of bridges and tanks. They must have quick con¬ 
struction and are trying us out. We’ll hold on to 
a small picked gang and push ahead when work is 
possible. I don’t know if I will be around much, 
and the man who takes charge must be hard.” 

Kit’s heart beat. “If you think I could fill the 
post, I’ll risk the cold.” 

“Nothing’s fixed, but I reckon you might take 
two days off and buy winter clothes at Winnipeg,” 
said Wheeler, smiling. “You’ll want the clothes, 
any way.” 

“But suppose you kept me, what about Austin?” 

Wheeler’s look got aggressive and he pushed for¬ 
ward his firm jaw. 

“Where Austin goes is the company’s business. 
Bob’s a useful man, and if we move him, I reckon 
he’ll be all right, but it hasn’t much to do with you, 
and you can pull out.” 

Kit went. One did not dispute with Wheeler, 
and his stating that Austin would be all right was 
important, since it indicated that he wanted to satisfy 
Kit. As a rule, Wheeler was not apologetic. 

When Austin came in for supper Kit narrated his 
interview, and noting the other’s thoughtful look, 
remarked with a touch of embarrassment: “If I 
thought my staying might be awkward for you, I’d 
give up the idea.” 


178 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


“For you to refuse would be ridiculous,” Austin 
rejoined. “I must go where the bosses send me, and 
when they push ahead in spring I’d, no doubt, get 
back. Then the winter’s fierce, and I expect Carrie 
would like it better at an Eastern town. Well, the 
thing’s not fixed.” 

He resumed his supper, and when the meal was 
over Kit pulled his chair to the stove. He had 
agreed he would not for a stipulated time write to 
Evelyn, but he wanted Mrs. Haigh to know his luck 
was turning, and he hoped she would give Evelyn 
the short note he enclosed. Then he wrote to Alan 
Carson. He knew Alan was interested, and believed 
he would inform Evelyn about his progress. Kit 
was young and hopeful, and he rather let himself go. 

In the morning the light frost broke, and it looked 
as if Indian summer had returned. The sky was 
blue and calm, and pale sunshine touched the plain. 
Nobody, however, was cheated, and when dusk fell 
the blast-lamps’ white fires tossed along the bridge. 
Winter was coming, and the piers must be braced 
and the girders stiffened before the arctic frost began. 

For a time Kit did not see Austin much. As a 
rule, when one was at the bridge the other slept, and 
when they met for meals they were tired and did 
not talk. Some material, however, did not arrive, 
and one morning Austin said: 

“Wheeler n|ust slack up for a day or two, and 
I’m going to Fairmead for a week-end. Carrie 
hopes you’ll come along.” 

Kit hesitated. He had made two or three happy 
visits to Fairmead, and he thought he ought not tc 



MRS. AUSTIN MEDDLES 179 

bother Mrs. Austin. When he indicated something 
like that, Austin smiled. 

“You’re modest, Kit! Carrie ordered me to bring 
you.” 

Wheeler was willing for them to go, and at the 
week-end they went down the line. They got to 
Fairmead in the evening, and at supper Kit thought 
Mrs. Austin preoccupied. When they got up she 
said to Austin: 

“Ought you not to see Phelps, Bob ?” 

“Why, yes,” said Austin. “I expect he’s shut 
down at the office. By and by I’ll go along to his 
hotel.” 

“Since he gets supper at the hotel you had better 
go now. If you wait, I expect he’ll be at the pool 
room and. you can’t talk.” 

“It is possible,” Austin agreed and turned to Kit. 
“Will you take a walk up town?” 

Kit thought Mrs. Austin did not want him to go 
and he waited. 

“I’d sooner Kit stayed,” she said. “Alison and 
Florence are coming over. Don’t be long, Bob!” 

Bob went off and Mrs. Austin took Kit to another 
room and gave him a cigarette, but for a few minutes 
she said nothing and Kit looked about. Although 
the furniture was cheap, the small room was pretty 
and homelike. The electrolier was shaded and the 
light was soft. Kit heard the wind in the basement 
stove under the thin boards and the dry warmth 
was soothing. A willow tapped the window, and 
he saw frost on the glass. Then he glanced at his 
hostess. Carrie Austin was young and attractive, 
but now her look was firm. 


180 CARSON OF RED RIVER 

“Perhaps you know why I sent Bob off?” she 
said. 

“I imagined you had an object/’ Kit admitted. 

“Well, perhaps you have heard he goes back to 
the drawing office at the bridge works for the win¬ 
ter?” 

“He said nothing about it. If it implies your giv¬ 
ing up your house, I’m sorry.” 

“To give up the house would not disturb me much. 
Has Wheeler not told you he means you to carry 
on?” 

“Although I thought nothing was fixed, I ex¬ 
pected to stay,” said Kit. “In fact, I was rather 
bucked about it, and I hoped for your congratu¬ 
lations.” 

Mrs. Austin gave him a queer look. “Then you 
must think me very generous! Bob’s my husband.” 

Kit began to see a light. He, however, waited 
and Mrs. Austin resumed: 

“You admit that but for Bob you might not have 
been promoted?” 

“Certainly. He persuaded Wheeler to move me 
from the forge.” 

“Yet you are willing to take the job he ought to 
get!’’ 

“Not at all,” said Kit. “I really don’t think my 
habit is to let down my friends.” 

Mrs. Austin said nothing. Kit’s smile was apolo¬ 
getic, but his face was red. To doubt his sincerity 
was impossible. She had not really doubted: she had 
rather been forced to experiment. 

“When Wheeler talked about my carrying on, I 
inquired if that implied that he would not want 


MRS. AUSTIN MEDDLES 


181 


Bob,” Kit resumed. “Wheeler declared the company 
had plans for him and he would not grumble. Then 
he ordered me off. It looks as if you thought the 
fellow cheated.” 

“Bob is keen to get ahead. If he finishes the 
bridge, he hopes it will help him go farther. But 
I stated something like this before, and you, of 
course, could use my argument-” 

“I don’t want to use your argument, ma’am; your 
husband’s my pal. Since I expect you’d sooner not 
talk about the thing again, let’s try to understand 
each other. Please go on.” 

“Very well. Bob has made some inquiries, and 
all they want at the office is a second-class drafts¬ 
man. You know Bob was very ill in France, and 
I’d sooner he went to the office. The trouble is, he’s 
convinced he can stand the cold, and for my sake 
he hates to let go the chance he thinks he’s got.” 

“It’s obvious,” said Kit. “Wheeler’s an unscrupu¬ 
lous brute; but I don’t know why he fixed on me.” 

“Bob declares you have talent. Then is not your 
uncle a famous engineer?” 

“The house is an English house, and although 
Jasper Carson sometimes speculates in Canada, he 
has nothing to do with the bridge. When I admitted 
he was my uncle, Wheeler seemed to think it a joke. 
So far, I don’t see the joke-” 

He stopped and smiled, a crooked smile, for he 
had boasted to Mrs. Haigh and Alan about his pro¬ 
gress, and had seen himself conquering. All the 
same, he must not force Bob to pay for his triumph. 
In fact, he must not be a shabby hound. 

“You mustn’t bother,” he went on. “I expect 




182 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


the idea was Wheeler’s, and the head bosses would 
not approve his giving me control. Anyhow, Ell re¬ 
fuse, and I rather think Wheeler’s going to get a 
jolt.” 

Mrs. Austin got up and put her hand impulsively 
on his arm. 

“You are fine, Kit, and I’m horribly selfish! I 
felt I must fight for my husband, but I’d hate you 
to think he agreed.” 

“Now you’re ridiculous! I can’t picture Bob’s 
agreeing, and when you hustled him off he was 
puzzled.” 

“There’s another thing,” said Mrs. Austin. “Had 
you and Bob competed evenly for the post I should 
not have meddled. But it was not like that. You 
were his helper and the post was really his”—she 
pressed Kit’s arm and gave him an apologetic 
glance—“you see it, don’t you, Kit?” 

Kit saw something else. The door was open and 
Alison came in. 

“Florence is sorry she cannot get away-” she 

said and stopped. 

Kit was very quiet. Mrs. Austin’s hand was on 
his arm and he wanted to step back, but she did not 
move and he knew he must not. Alison studied him 
rather scornfully and the blood came to her skin. 
Then Mrs. Austin laughed. 

“You mustn’t be romantic, my dear! But, if you 
are romantic, whom do you blame?” 

“The door was open,” said Alison. “I didn’t 
know-” 

Kit’s face got red, but Mrs. Austin’s eyes twinkled. 

“In the circumstances, I suppose you must know; 




MRS. AUSTIN MEDDLES 


183 


but Bob must not—I expect you think it plain? 
Well, although Kit is very noble, he is not my lover; 
I am content with Bob. Perhaps you will satisfy 
Alison’s curiosity, Kit?” 

Kit said nothing. To proclaim his nobility was 
not an attractive part, and Mrs. Austin went on: 
“Since Kit is modest, I’ll try to enlighten you.” 

She did so, and when she stopped Alison gave Kit 
an embarrassed glance. Kit’s heart beat, for al¬ 
though she blushed and hesitated, he thought her 
look was proud. 

“You could not take another line,” she said. “The 
post is Austin’s.” 

“Of course,” said Kit. “All the same, you 
mustn’t talk to Bob about it. When I get back I’ll 
speak to Wheeler, and in the meantime we have 
had enough. I have brought my fiddle. Let’s try 
the sonata.” 

Alison went to the piano and Kit tuned his violin. 
To play was some relief. His high hopes had van¬ 
ished, and before long he might be forced to take 
the road and play for his supper. Then he was 
bothered by his emotions when Alison came in. For 
all that, he concentrated on the awkward rhythm, 
and after a time the music carried him away. When 
they stopped Mrs. Austin looked up. 

“Thank you,” she said with a twinkle. “You 
played up nobly.” Then she turned to Alison. “Kit 
does play up. A hard part doesn’t daunt him; but 
perhaps you know.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


KIT TAKES HIS CUE 

W HEELER put down the Montreal newspaper 
and knitted his brows. Snow beat the office 
windows and the lamp burned unsteadily. A savage 
wind screamed in the trees and the river brawled. 
[Winter ought to have begun, and Wheeler had ex¬ 
pected keen frost to follow the snow, but all the 
snow that fell melted, and when it went cold rain 
swelled the pools along the muddy track. 

Had the frost arrived, Wheeler would have sent 
off most of the men and cut expenses by keeping 
only the limited number he could usefully employ. 
Now, however, he must carry on as long and fast 
as possible. The drawback was, he might not finish 
all he began, and when the spring floods hurled the 
ice floes against the piers, girders and columns must 
be firmly stayed. A Canadian river’s breaking is an 
impressive spectacle. 

In the meantime, frost and thaw and rain embar¬ 
rassed the gangs. The boys did not earn their pay, 
and at the head office construction costs were keenly 
scrutinized. Then, as soon as the real frost did 
begin, the company would call Wheeler East and he 
must fix on the proper man to superintend the cut- 
184 


KIT TAKES HIS CUE 


185 


down gang. Austin was a good engineer, but some¬ 
times he got sick, and he could not handle the boys 
like young Carson. Austin’s soberness was not al¬ 
together an advantage; when the gang was tired and 
sullen, Carson’s humorous banter went farther than 
a command. . . . Wheeler turned his head, for the 
door rattled and Kit came in. 

Kit’s long boots were muddy and wet snow stuck 
to his slickers. He shook the melting slush from 
his hat, and when he faced Wheeler his look was 
grim. Wheeler thought the boy was riled. 

“Hello!” he said. “Is somebody making trouble ?” 

“The boys are not,” said Kit. “Have you decided 
who’s to stay at the bridge?” 

“You’re pretty frank,” Wheeler remarked. “If 
you like, you can have the job.” 

“Then, I suppose you’re sending Austin to the 
workshops ?” 

“Where the company sends Austin has nothing 
to do with you.” 

“You stated something like that before. Well, 
all I’m entitled to say is, if Austin goes, I won’t 
stay.” 

Wheeler smiled, a rather grim smile. He began 
to see a light, and he admitted the boy had grit. 

“You reckon, unless you see us out, we can’t put 
the bridge across ?” 

“I’m not a fool,” said Kit. “Engineers are pretty 
numerous. All the same, there’s something you 
ought to weigh: for a time the job would bother a 
fresh man.” 

“It’s possible,” Wheeler agreed. “I begin to get 
your argument, but go ahead-” 



186 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


Kit’s eyes twinkled. In a way, his talking to 
Wheeler was humorous. The fellow was his com¬ 
manding officer and his rule was firm. 4 Kit had 
thought to annoy him, but so far as he could see, 
Wheeler was not annoyed. Well, if he wanted to 
argue, Kit was willing. 

“Austin know r s his job, and I am, so to speak, his 
understudy. Then it’s important that the boys 
know us. I expect you have got a pick on Austin 
and thought you’d ship him off and give me his part. 
The plan won’t work.” 

“Now I get you; but you can’t bluff a big Cana¬ 
dian company. You claim, unless we hold on to 
Austin, you will let us down? We’ll risk it. .When 
do you pull out?” 

Kit had thought to conquer; but perhaps in a 
sense, he had conquered, since Wheeler could not 
use him. 

“I imagine I’m engaged for a month-” 

Wheeler laughed and indicated a chair. “If 
you’re resolved, we won’t hold you longer than you 
want; but suppose you let me talk? To begin with, 
I have not a pick on Austin. Bob’s a useful man, 
but I don’t know if he’s the proper man to stay at 
the bridge. If you quit, you’ll get your pay up to 
date, but you want to consider. In winter, Can¬ 
ada’s a pretty hard country. You’d find the labor 
agents have no use for a tenderfoot, and the cheap 
boarding-houses are crowded by broken roustabouts, 
waiting for the spring. Since the war I reckon the 
dollar hotels have shut down. However, if your 
wad is big-” 



KIT TAKES HIS CUE 187 

‘‘My wad is not big. For all that, I’m not going 
to take Austin’s post.” 

“Very well! You claimed you were not a fool. 
Suppose I send you East? If the company tried 
you out at the office, would it meet the bill?” 

“I’d be glad to go,” said Kit. “Since I meant to 
bluff you, you’re generous.” 

“Then, it’s fixed, but until the frost stops us, we 
want you at the bridge. I guess that’s all, and you 
won’t talk to Austin about it.” 

Kit went off. He had not helped Austin, but he 
had done all he promised to do, and to know he 
would pay for his meddling was some relief. Since 
he could not bluff Wheeler, there was no use in 
hurting himself. 

For a week, rain and snow embarrassed the work¬ 
men. Sometimes in the morning the mud about the 
camp was frozen and hoar frost sparkled on the 
trees, but in a few hours the rain began. The swol¬ 
len river undermined the bank, and the material 
stacked along the track sank in the mire. To handle 
the wet and greasy steel was awkward, but arctic 
winter would soon arrive, and the work was stub¬ 
bornly pushed on. 

Then a telegram called Wheeler to the company’s 
office and the strain got worse, for the gangs did 
not stop at night, and somebody besides the foremen 
must be about. Kit thought the extra effort bothered 
Austin, and when he returned one stormy evening to 
the shack he found Bob by the stove. His face was 
pinched and he was wrapped in a blanket. 

“I was forced to stop, but I’m getting warm,” he 
said in an apologetic voice. “If you think all’s pretty 


188 CARSON OF RED RIVER 

straight, I’ll go to bed after supper. A good sleep 
will fix me up.” 

Kit said he did not expect trouble, and for an 
hour or two he meant to loaf. To pull off his muddy 
boots and wet slickers was some relief, and after 
supper he carried his chair to the stove and lighted 
his pipe. Austin, sitting opposite rested his feet on 
a box. His pose was slack, and sometimes he shiv¬ 
ered. 

“After all, I don’t think you ought to complain 
about the company’s sending you off,” Kit remarked. 

“I don’t know that I do complain,” Austin re¬ 
joined. “If I was often bothered like this, I’d be 
resigned to quit, but I’m persuaded the trouble’s 
going. One can stand for keen frost—to wear wet 
clothes, to jump up as soon as you get to sleep and 
tumble about in the rain and dark is another propo¬ 
sition. To-night my back hurts and I’m dull and 
cold, but I expect to be all right in the morning.” 

Kit doubted, but he said: “Mrs. Austin would 
sooner you were at the drawing office.” 

“Carrie’s glad,” Austin agreed. “Still at Toronto 
she was rather important, and she ought to have cul¬ 
tivated friends. She likes music and pictures and so 
forth, but so long as my pay is small she must go 
without. I had hoped to get ahead and give her a 
better time. To be beaten by a weak body is riling.” 

“Philosophy’s the proper plan; but perhaps you 
ought to go to bed.” 

“I’ll go soon. Now I’ve got myself fixed right 
and my back is easier, I don’t want to move.” 

Kit said nothing. Snow beat the windows and 
the iron roof rattled; he was tired and frankly did 


KIT TAKES HIS CUE 


189 


not want to face the storm. The stove-front got 
red and the heat was soothing. For an hour he re¬ 
solved to let himself go slack. 

By and by a foreman pushed back the door. He 
breathed fast, and his look was grim. 

“.We have got the brace across at the end pier, 
but the ends won’t meet the bolt holes in the lugs.” 

Austin threw off the blanket and jumped up. 

“Are the ends much short ?” 

“Maybe an inch, but we can’t spring the frames. 
I’ve sent for jacks and the chain tackle. Looks as 
if the outside lug wasn’t plumb in line-” 

“Get to it,” said Austin. “I’ll be along in a few 
minutes.” 

The other went off, and Kit was sorry Wheeler 
was not about. He thought a screw pile carrying 
a column had sunk. The brace the men tried to fix 
would support the column, but the bolts must reach 
the holes. A bridge is not geometrically accurate 
and one must sometimes spring a member to its 
place. In a snowstorm, however, to force the stiff 
frames to meet would be hard. 

“Stop by the stove,” he said. “As soon as I think 
we win out, I’ll send you word.” 

“I’m going,” Austin rejoined. “When Wheeler’s 
not around I’m in control. Besides, if I go sick 
when I’m wanted, the company would be entitled to 
keep me at the office. I can’t risk it.” 

They disputed, but Austin was firm and Kit helped 
him pull on his thick clothes. When he picked up 
Austin’s slicker he saw the back was torn. 

“A bolt end,” said Austin. “I helped the boys 
throw some heavy stuff from a trolley.” 



190 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


‘‘Take my coat,” said Kit, and when he put on 
Austin’s he turned his head and smiled. 

In a way, Bob’s obstinacy was justified, for the 
man who makes good is the man who is where he 
is wanted; but Kit began to see a plan. He had 
stated that he was Austin’s understudy, and the torn 
slicker was his cue. The tear was conspicuous and 
was made when the men were about. Now, how¬ 
ever, Kit had got the coat, the night was dark, and 
the snow was thick. If Austin were knocked out, 
Kit thought he could play his part. 

“You’re stubborn, Bob, but let’s get off,” he said. 


CHAPTER XX 


Austin's understudy 

S NOW blew about the bridge and the savage wind 
screamed in the lattice. The planks laid across 
the ties were slippery; the flames from the throbbing 
blast-lamps slanted, and sometimes all was dark. 
Then the white fires leaped up and a dazzling illumi¬ 
nation touched the netted steel. At awkward spots 
Kit seized Austin’s arm. Bob was not steady, the 
planks were narrow, and if one went across the edge 
one would plunge to the river. 

For a few moments the wind dropped, and the 
reflections flickered across the shore end of the 
bridge. The steep bank was faced by stone, and 
broken rock was stacked along the line. To grade 
the approach to the bridge was the railroad com¬ 
pany's business, but Kit supposed he could use their 
material. 

“I think we'll dump some rock about the shaky 
pile," he said. 

Austin’s brain was dull and to keep his feet was 
hard, but he nodded. 

“Very well. Send a gang along." 

“You are chief. The order ought to come from 
you," Kit remarked. 


191 


192 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


A few minutes afterwards they met the foreman. 

“We’re surely up against it,” said the man. “The 
outside column’s sagging. If we could bolt up the 
truss, we might hold her, but the straps won’t come 
across.” 

“Turn out a fresh gang,” Austin ordered. “Load 
up rock and run the trolleys across the bridge. Then 
rig a derrick and dump the stuff.” 

“A great notion!” said the foreman. “I’ll get 
busy.” 

He vanished in the snow, and Austin leaned 
against the lattice. 

“I’m rattled, Kit, but I think you’ve got it. If 
the pile sinks, the lot will go. . . . But what about 
dumping some bags of cement?” 

“Wheeler’s construction boss, and we don’t know 
what he’d do,” Kit replied. “To move the cement 
might bother him, but, if he wanted, he could dredge 
up the broken rock. You, however, ought to be in 
bed.” 

“If I’d gone to bed, I’d acknowledge I ought not 
to hold my post. I’ve got to stay with it.” 

“Oh, well, your cap will blow off,” said Kit, and 
pulling down the oilskin cap, he firmly tied the 
strings. 

At the end of the bridge they stopped. The beam 
from the lamps did not travel far, and in front was 
a dark gap. Twenty feet below, the river brawled 
among the piers and its turmoil faintly pierced the 
scream of the gale. A ladder went down into the 
tossing snow, and one heard chains rattle and hoarse 
shouts. Then a slanted flame leaped upright, and 
platforms and workmen’s figures got distinct. Kit 


AUSTIN'S UNDERSTUDY 193 

thought Austin ought not to go down, but Bob was 
obstinate and he could not force him back. 

He went in front, and where it was possible, 
steadied the other. By and by he pulled Austin on 
to a platform, and bracing himself against the gale, 
he looked about. The snow blew obliquely across 
the bridge and the light was puzzling. Sometimes 
shining columns and skeleton trusses cut the hazy 
background; sometimes the flames sank and the 
netted steel melted in the gloom. 

Men, balanced awkwardly on narrow bars, steadied ' 
a big steel frame suspended by wire tackles. An¬ 
other group hauled on a chain and when they reached 
for a fresh hold the platform rocked. Two or three 
more, on the beams overhead, turned a screw. The 
suspended frame did not altogether span the gap 
and reach the fastenings on the pillar. To pull the 
mass into line looked impossible, but one must try, 
and the screws and multiplying tackle were power¬ 
ful. Kit touched Austin. 

“I think she’ll come across, and if we can get the 
bolts through the bottom lugs, we ought to fix the 
top. Anyhow, I’ll go up. Keep the boys to it.” 

He had got Austin’s coat and, in the snow and 
turmoil, he thought the men would not know him 
from Bob; they were much the same height and build. 
Jumping for a tie-rod, he went up into the snow, 
and when a fyeam from a lamp searched the spot 
he reached, the torn slicker was conspicuous. Under¬ 
neath were two small platforms and the angry flood. 
His hands were numb and his skin smarted, but 
after all the snow was wet. Flesh and blood could 
not labor in the frost that dries the snow to dust. 


194 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


He shouted. A straining wire rope groaned and 
the bottom of the truss jarred the column. Kit 
took a bolt from a workman and went down an in¬ 
clined rod. A man on the opposite column waved 
his arms, as if to indicate that the end was fast, and 
Kit guided the bored steel strap to the proper spot. 
The end moved very slowly, but it did move; the 
holes were almost opposite, and although the heavy 
frame oscillated in the wind, he thought in a few 
moments he would push in the bolt. Then a noise 
disturbed him and he saw Austin was coming up. 

Kit frowned. Bob ought not to risk the climb; 
but he must concentrate on guiding the strap to the 
socket and he could hardly use his stiff hands. He 
pushed the bolt through the holes and straightened 
his back. The job was not finished, but the worst 
strain was over. They had put the truss where it 
ought to go and the bolts would hold until all was 
fast. 

Then Kit remembered Austin. Bob had stopped, 
as if he saw he was not needed. He turned and 
pushed his hand along a bar, and Kit thought he 
meant to go down. A foreman shouted, and the 
wire tackles running from the girder overhead went 
slack. A big iron pulley dropped a foot or two and 
the hook it carried disengaged. Kit doubted if the 
hook struck Austin, but it looked as if he heard the 
noise and tried to avoid the shock. His boots rattled 
on the iron and his shoulders went back. Kit saw 
he was letting go, and he swung himself down to a 
fresh support and put his arm round the other. 

“Stick tight!” he said. “Til help you to the lad¬ 
der." 


AUSTIN’S UNDERSTUDY 


195 


They reached the ladder, but the effort cost Kit 
much, and when he saw Austin take hold he stopped 
to get his breath. 

“If you can reach the platform, well send you up 
in the skip,” he gasped. 

“I think I can make it,” said Austin, and they went 
down. 

At the platform Kit pushed Austin to a tool-box. 
Snow blew about, the lamp’s flame tossed and all 
was indistinct. The current broke noisily against 
the piers and the wind screamed in the bridge. When 
a foreman advanced Kit bent his head. 

“The boys have rigged the derrick. Shall we 
start in to dump the rock?” 

Kit nodded, and when the man vanished, touched 
Austin. 

“Don’t talk, Bob. Let me handle things. We’ll 
soon have all fixed.” 

“I don’t want to talk,” said Austin. “I want to 
lie down.” 

Kit waited with some anxiety. Bob was obviously 
ill, but the men must not know, and Kit hoped the 
skip would soon arrive. By and by a big steel 
bucket swung across the platform and a load of 
broken rock splashed in the river. Austin got into 
the skip awkwardly, for Kit dared not help, but 
when he jumped on the edge and seized the chain, 
he called the foreman. 

“Keep going! I’ll be back as soon as possible.” 

The bucket went up and stopped at the plankway 
along the bridge. Kit saw the gang was occupied, 
and putting his arm round Austin, steered him to 
an unloaded trolley. Austin leaned against him and 




196 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


Kit imagined he did not know where they went. 
[When they got on board he shouted for two or three 
men. 

“My office! Shove her along!” 

The trolley rolled ahead and the tossing fires 
melted in the snow. The trees along the track bent 
in the wind and the noise was like the roar of the 
sea. One could not see four yards in front; but at 
length a faint glimmer pierced the snow and the 
trolley stopped. Austin got down, Kit signalled the 
others to go back, and when the trolley vanished 
guided Austin to the door. When they got inside, 
Austin dropped into a chair. His eyes were half 
shut, he shivered and his face was gray. 

“I expect the pulley hit me, although I didn’t feel 
the knock,” he said. “However, I ought not to 
quit-” 

“Since all was straight before you went you 
needn’t bother,” Kit replied in a cheerful voice. 
“But put your feet on the box, I’m going to pull off 
your boots.” 

Austin gave him a dull, puzzled look. 

“You were on the tie-rod? I’ve a notion I came 
near to letting go; but I don’t remember much-” 

“Oh, well,” said Kit, “it doesn’t matter, and the 
boys want me. I’ll help you to bed.” 

He pulled off Austin’s clothes and put him in his 
bunk. Austin said nothing and after a few minutes 
Kit thought him asleep. He dared not stop, and 
throwing Austin’s torn slicker under some clothes, 
he got his own coat and faced the gale. 

Some time after daybreak he started for the office. 
He was exhausted and the morning was very cold. 




AUSTIN’S UNDERSTUDY 


197 


The wind had dropped, the sky was clear, and the 
snow on the planks was hard. Shining icicles hung 
from the ironwork and Kit concluded winter had 
at length arrived. At the bridge-head a man stopped 
him. 

“Did the pulley hit you, Mr. Carson? I reckoned 
she was going to knock you off the frame.” 

“I got two or three knocks,” Kit replied with a 
laugh. “On the whole, I imagine cooking’s a softer 
job than running a bridge gang.” 

He stopped for a few minutes at the bunkhouse, 
and then -went to the office. Austin had got up and 
some color had come back to his skin. Kit pulled off 
his long boots and lighted a cigarette. The stove 
was red hot, and after the cold and strain he was 
willing to relax. 

“How are you, Bob?” he asked. 

Austin said he was shaky, but he expected soon 
to be better and he must try to get about. Kit 
agreed. If it were but for an hour or two, Bob 
ought to superintend. 

“Jock will send us breakfast in a few minutes,” 
he said. “When you have got some food you might 
take a walk along the girder. Put on your big coat 
and skin-cap. The cold is fierce.” 

“Your plan’s rather obvious, Kit. However, I 
expect I must play up; people indulge you. I don’t 
know another man who could persuade a camp cook 
to serve breakfast when it was not the proper time.” 

“Well, you see, I was Jock’s piper. Besides, you’re 
not forced to advertise that you’re not very fit. 
When you were wanted, you were on the spot.” 

“I doubt if I helped much,” said Austin in a 


198 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


thoughtful voice. “When the boys let go the tackle, 
you jumped across and helped me down—did you 
not? Perhaps it’s strange, but I don’t remember 
all we did.” 

“It isn’t strange,” said Kit. “The wind was 
savage and the snow was thick. We were highly 
strung and I suppose we worked mechanically. All 
we knew was, we must get the truss across. Well, 
before you went the truss was in place.” 

“When did I go?” 

“Now I’m beaten! When I stopped I felt as if 
I’d fought the gale for a week. Anyhow, it was 
some time in the morning and the worst strain was 
over. I expect you saw we didn’t need you and you 
went slack.” 

“You are a good pal,” Austin remarked in a mean¬ 
ing voice. “Well, I wonder-” 

Kit frowned. He thought he had cheated the 
workmen, but unless he cheated Austin he had not 
gained much. Bob would not allow himself to be 
rewarded for another’s efforts. Moreover, he was 
not a fool and Kit was tired. 

“Sometimes you’re horribly obstinate, but if you’re 
not satisfied, you must talk to the boys. They saw 
you about and they’ll admit they took your orders. 
If you study the job, I expect you’ll see the orders 
were good.” 

Austin’s look was thoughtful, but Kit imagined 
he was to some extent convinced, and soon after¬ 
wards the cook carried in their breakfast. 

After a few days Wheeler arrived and approved 
all the others had done. When he had examined 
their work he called Kit to his office. 



AUSTIN’S UNDERSTUDY 199 

“You’ll be glad to hear we have arranged for 
Austin to take control?” 

“I think you have got the proper man, but when 
we talked about it you did not agree.” 

Wheeler shrugged. “My word goes, but I’m not 
head boss. At all events, you didn’t put across your 
bluff and have got to quit! Now the frost’s begun, 
we’ll break the gangs and you can pull out for the 
workshops.” 

“So long as you have given me another post I 
mustn’t grumble,” Kit remarked with a smile. “In 
fact, on the whole, I think my luck is pretty good. 
To bluff a big construction company is rash.” 

Wheeler gave him a queer look. “Well, I don’t 
know if you’d hesitate about bluffing a construction 
gang! All the same, if you stay with it at the shops, 
I’ll send for you when we start up in spring. Now 
you had better pack your trunk. A train goes down 
the line in the afternoon.” 

Kit packed his trunk, and at dusk a locomotive and 
a row of flat cars rolled across the old wooden bridge. 
The cook and a foreman put Kit’s trunk in the 
calaboose, and for a few minutes he talked to Austin 
and looked about. 

The snowy woods shone in the sunset and the 
broad white plain melted in ethereal blue; by contrast, 
the open channel of the river was black like ink. 
Two or three faint plumes of smoke went straight 
up, and along the bridge a few hammers beat. That 
was all and Kit felt the camp was strangely quiet. 
Winter had arrived. Then somebody signalled and 
Austin gave Kit his hand. 

“Good luck!” he said. “Stay with it, partner. 


200 CARSON OF RED RIVER 

I think Wheeler bets on you; he’ll see you get your 
chance.” 

Kit jumped for the step, the bell clanged, and 
the train steamed away into the gloom. When a 
brakesman pulled the door across, Kit sat down and 
lighted his pipe. Rob had kept his post and that was 
something, but he had given up his and for four or 
five months his work would be monotonous and un¬ 
important. He had seen himself triumphant at 
the bridge; to copy plans at the drawing office was 
another thing. Although he felt he had taken the 
proper line, he wondered whether Evelyn would ap¬ 
prove. Mrs. Haigh certainly would not. 


CHAPTER XXI 


JASPER EXPERIMENTS 

D INNER was over at Netherhall, and Mrs. 

Carson’s party had gone to the drawing-room. 
Mrs. Carson was conservative and she refused to 
banish the early-Victorian walnut furniture. She 
claimed Gibbons carved the noble fireplace, but the 
plate glass carried across above the big grate did not 
altogether stop the smoke. Tall brass pillars sup¬ 
ported oil lamps; the piano and card-table were 
lighted by candles in old silver sticks. 

Although the furniture was ugly, the spacious 
room had dignity and Mrs. Carson harmonized. 
Her mouth was thin and her face was pinched. 
Sometimes her look was mean, she was frankly 
parsimonious, and her clothes were not good, but 
her stamp was the stamp of the proud old school. 

For Netherhall, the party was large. Jasper had 
arrived from Liverpool; he had rooms at Sheffield 
and London, but his habit was to stop for a day or 
two with his brother. Agatha had arrived from the 
hospital, and Led ward from town. When he was 
bored he visited at Netherhall. Ledward was Mrs. 
Carson’s favorite and he cleverly cultivated her. 
Mrs. Carson knew her nephew, but she was flattered. 
201 




202 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


Mrs. Haigh and Evelyn were her friends, and as a 
rule they came across when she had other guests. 

“You were at Liverpool?” she said to Jasper. 

“I was sending off a man to Montreal. I myself 
ought to have gone, but when the St. Lawrence 
freezes one must go by Halifax or New York, and 
now I get old I begin to hate the shaking cars.” 

Smoke whirled about the glass shield, rain beat 
the windows, and the trees by the river roared like 
the sea. 

“I should hate the steamer,” Mrs. Carson re¬ 
marked. “So long as another was willing to go for 
me, I would be content.” 

“The trouble is, I’m forced to be content. Am¬ 
bitious young men, keen to undertake my job, are 
numerous, but I doubt their talent, and since I have 
not an engineer relation I must hold out as long as 
possible.” 

“We thought Kit might have helped,” Alan Car- 
son remarked. 

“Kit had other plans,” said Jasper dryly and 
turned to Agatha. “You are an independent lot. 
When I could have got you an easier post you stuck 
to your hospital.” 

“At the hospital I have some authority, and one 
likes to command,” said Agatha, smiling. “Inde¬ 
pendence is attractive.” 

“Sometimes it's expensive. I suppose you get 
news from your brother?” 

“Kit has not written to me for some time. All I 
’mow is he was engaged at a Manitoba bridge.” 

“We got two letters,” said Mrs. Haigh. “The 
first was optimistic; Kit was to stay at the bridge for 


JASPER EXPERIMENTS 203 

the winter and superintend. The other was rather 
apologetic. He had given up his post and was going 
to the company’s workshops.” 

“He stated he had resigned his post?” 

“The engineer at the bridge wanted him to stay. 
Kit’s grounds for refusing were not very clear and 
his note was short.” 

“Kit’s habit is to resign his posts. To know he 
was not forced to do so is some comfort,” Mrs. Car- 
son remarked. 

“He was certainly not forced,” said Evelyn, with 
an angry blush. “We don’t know why he went, but 
his object was good.” 

Jasper gave her a queer, fixed look and then 
studied Mrs. Haigh. She obviously agreed with 
Evelyn, but he thought Kit’s not remaining at the 
bridge had annoyed her. In fact, since he imagined 
she did not like to own Kit had omitted to seize his 
opportunity, her frankness was perhaps strange. 
Mrs. Haigh, however, knew where frankness paid. 

“Do you know who are his employers?” he in¬ 
quired. 

Mrs. Haigh stated the company’s title, and Alan 
looked up with surprise. Jasper smiled ironically. 

“I was willing to go without my nephew’s help, 
but I didn’t reckon on his joining my antagonists,” 
he said and turned to Mrs. Carson. “The company 
is the competitor of a Canadian house in which I’m 
interested. Just now, a railroad weighs its tenders 
for some important contracts against ours.” 

“You don’t imply that Kit knew?” Evelyn re¬ 
joined. 

“It’s possible he did not. For all that, I imagine 



204 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


the bridge company knew whom they employed. 
When one engages an engineer one makes inquiries, 
and a number of people know I support the opposi¬ 
tion.” 

“I don’t see the others’ object,” said Alan in a 
disturbed voice. 

“It looks like a joke, but Canadian engineers are 
not remarkably humorous. Then, although I ex¬ 
pect they found out about Kit’s leaving the ship¬ 
yard, they risked engaging him.” 

“Kit was not bound to enlighten the people,” Mrs. 
Haigh remarked. 

“Something depends upon one’s point of view,” 
Jasper replied, and turned to Agatha. “What do 
you think about it?” 

“When Kit was engaged his employers knew all 
that weighed against him.” 

“If they found out he was your nephew, they 
perhaps hoped they might use him,” said Mrs. 
Carson. 

Agatha looked up, but she saw Evelyn’s eyes 
sparkle and she waited. 

“Then they were very foolish; Kit would not 
take a bribe to be shabby,” Evelyn declared, and 
Jasper gave her an indulgent smile. 

“On the whole, I agree. There’s another thing; 
Canadians are not fools, and if they studied Kit for 
a very short time, they’d be satisfied he had not much 
talent for intrigue. Well, I think we’ll let it go.” 

Mrs. Carson beckoned her husband, and Mrs. 
Haigh and Jasper went with them to the card-table, 
but Agatha stopped in the corner by the fireplace. 
She had studied the others and now she pondered. 


205 


JASPER EXPERIMENTS 

Mrs. Carson was frankly spiteful; she, no doubt, 
felt Kit had humiliated his relations and ought to 
be punished. Alan was Kit’s friend, but he dared 
not oppose his wife, and Agatha thought Jasper’s 
remark about the Carsons’ independence carried a 
sneer. Since Evelyn was not plucky, her champion¬ 
ing Kit was curious; Agatha wondered whether she 
had reckoned on her mother’s support. Yet, as a 
rule, Mrs. Haigh played up to Mrs. Carson. More¬ 
over, she was something of an adventuress and Kit 
was poor and, so to speak, in disgrace. Agatha ad¬ 
mitted she did not see much light. 

Ledward had said nothing, but the ground was 
awkward, and his habit was to be tactful. Although 
Agatha thought Evelyn attracted him, Ledward was 
not the man to marry a poor wife. Agatha did not 
see him carried away by romantic passion. Harry 
was clever and had made his mark at Oxford, but, 
although he was not rich, he was apparently satisfied 
to do nothing. Now he talked to Evelyn and Evelyn 
smiled. 

Jasper excited Agatha’s .curiosity. She imagined 
he had studied the group with a sort of ironical 
humor, and when he talked about Kit she got a hint 
of antagonism. She thought it strange, because the 
old fellow was rather inscrutable; and if he were 
antagonistic, she fancied he would not be willing for 
the others to know. Well, there was not much use 
in speculating, and she joined Evelyn. 

When Agatha sat down Ledward went off. For 
a young man he was rather fat; but he was a hand¬ 
some fellow and marked by a cultivated urbanity. 
Agatha let him go and turned to Evelyn. 





206 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


“You’re loyal,” she said. “I thought you plucky!” 

“Kit’s my lover. I promised to marry him when 
he makes good.” 

“Then the stipulation was not, if he made good?” 

“Sometimes you’re like Jasper Carson; one doubts 
if you are kind.” 

“I’m Kit’s sister; perhaps I’m shabbily jealous,” 
Agatha replied. 

“Oh, well, I’m going to be frank. Mrs. Carson 
hates Kit and mother’s afraid of her; she punishes 
people who do not agree. I really think I was noble, 
because when we got Kit’s last letter I was annoyed. 
I felt he had thrown away another chance.” 

Agatha’s look got sympathetic. “Since to go cost 
him something, I expect he went because he was con¬ 
vinced he ought to go.” 

“It’s possible,” Evelyn agreed in a moody voice. 
“Kit’s romantic and sometimes I’d sooner he was 
selfish. We don’t yet altogether know why he gave 
up his post at the shipyard; but, if he had thought 
only for himself, he need not have done so. Now 
I wonder whether he has not again allowed his rash 
generosity to carry him away.” 

Agatha had speculated about something like that. 
Evelyn knew her lover, but it looked as if she did 
not approve. In the circumstances, for her to do so 
would perhaps be hard. 

“Sometimes I feel Kit does not think of me,” 
Evelyn resumed, and although she blushed her look 
was calculating. “We are poor and I hate poverty. 
The proper plan was to make a good marriage. Yet 
I stuck to Kit. To talk about it jars, but I’m human 
and I’m bothered. For one thing, mother indulged 


JASPER EXPERIMENTS 207 

me although she knew I was foolish, and I’d hate to 
feel Kit had disappointed her. 

“Kit does not disappoint his friends,” Agatha re¬ 
marked in a quiet voice. 

“But he ought to be ambitious. One must not be 
generous where another is forced to pay. Kit does 
not weigh things; I expect he’s plunged into a fresh 
entanglement, but he ought not to be rash. You see, 
I must stop at dreary Netherdale. Then people know 
Kit’s poverty, and when they pretend to sympathize 
I feel they sneer. Mrs. Carson’s remarks hurt worse 
because she was persuaded they were justified. 
There’s the trouble—it looks as if the people who 
doubted Kit were justified-” 

Agatha was disturbed. Evelyn’s loyalty cost her 
something and might yet cost her much. So far she 
had paid, but Agatha wondered whether she could 
keep it up. Evelyn was selfish and rather shabbily 
ambitious. All the same, one must acknowledge her 
part was hard. 

“You must not exaggerate, my dear,” she said. 
“Kit has talent, and he’ll soon make progress.” 

After a time the card party broke up. Alan Car- 
son and Led ward went to the billiard-room and 
Agatha went for a book. When she came back she 
saw Jasper in the hall and she stopped. 

“It looked as if Miss Haigh gave you her con¬ 
fidence,” he said. 

“Evelyn was angry. Aunt was not kind.” 

“So far as she sees, my sister-in-law is sincere. 
Do you imply that her unkindness was all that 
bothered Miss Haigh?” 

“You implied that our talk was confidential,” 



208 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


Agatha rejoined. “In a way, I’m sorry for Evelyn. 
You don’t like her?” 

“You’re blade-straight and keen as steel,” said 
Jasper with a dry smile. “Well, I own I don’t like 
Mrs. Haigh and one inherits much. I’d sooner trust 
a fool than a calculating woman.” 

“It doesn't look as if Evelyn calculated. She 
means to stick to Kit.” 

“I wonder whether you thought it remarkable,” 
Jasper observed. 

Agatha said nothing and he resumed: “Had you 
chosen a wife for your brother, would you have 
chosen Miss Haigh ?” 

“Perhaps I would not. Our business, however, 
is not to choose Kit’s wife, and we ought not to 
meddle.” 

“Then Miss Haigh has your support?” 

“She has my sympathy,” Agatha replied, and 
Jasper gave her a queer smile and went off. 

For a few minutes Agatha stopped by the fire 
in the hall. On the whole she liked Jasper Carson, 
but he puzzled, and sometimes daunted her. Now 
she saw he had tried to find out if she believed 
Evelyn really meant to stick to her lover, and she 
thought his interest ominous. When she went back 
to the drawing-room, Jasper was not about and Mrs. 
Carson said he and Led ward had gone to smoke. 

In the smoking-room Jasper gave Led ward a 
cigar. 

“You ought to have an occupation, Harry. Have 
you thought about it?” 

“I rather thought I might be a barrister, but I 


209 


JASPER EXPERIMENTS 

don’t know. . . . One must keep twelve terms at an 
inn; something like three years before one can start.” 

Jasper nodded. ‘Then, unless you’re lucky and 
remarkably talented, the reward’s not large. What 
about business?” 

“If I sold all I have got, the sum I could invest 
would not carry me far, and since I’m not much 
attracted, I’d hesitate to face the risk. Then, if I 
took a post, I imagine the pay would be small, and 
so long as I’m not extravagant I can meet my bills.” 

“You might resolve to marry. When one is 
married one’s bills go up.” 

“It’s possible,” Ledward agreed in a careless voice. 
“So far, I have not thought much about marriage.” 

“Suppose I offered you a good post ?” 

“That’s another thing. I’d weigh your offer.” 

“Very well! I’m getting old and begin to feel I 
need help. Although I can buy help, I want a man 
I know, whose interests would be mine. At one 
time I thought I might use Kit, and by and by he 
might carry on the forge, but I saw the plan would 
not work.” 

Ledward thought his luck was good. Jasper was 
not looking for a clerk; he implied he wanted a man 
who would take control when he was forced to let 
things go. In fact, he really wanted something like 
an heir. Kit was his relation, but he had not taken 
the proper line and now Jasper hinted that he had 
done with him. All the same, one must use some 
caution. 

“The difficulty is, I am not an engineer.” 

“At Oxford you were a mathematician, and I want 




210 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


help to handle rather complicated finance. If you 
are willing, I’ll try you out.” 

“Em keen, sir,” Led ward replied. 

“Then, I must arrange for you to meet me at my 
town office. If I am satisfied, you will not grumble 
about the pay.” 

“Thank you,” said Ledward. “In the meantime, 
would you sooner I did not talk about it?” 

“I think we will not yet announce our agreement,” 
Jasper replied. “For one thing, I don’t know if 
you have the qualities I want; and then you may not 
like your job.” 


CHAPTER XXII 


MRS. HAIGH REVIEWS HER PLANS 

L ED WARD went to the London office and for a 
time was at the bookkeeper’s desk. At the 
beginning the bookkeeper, who did not need much 
help, speculated about his employer’s object, but he 
soon admitted that Ledward had qualities he had not 
thought to find in a fashionable loafer. Jasper Car- 
son, however, did not want a clerk. All he really 
wanted only he himself knew. In the meantime, he 
meant Harry to be useful. 

Ledward was something of a Hedonist. He took 
the pleasures he could get without much risk and 
effort, and when he did make an effort he wanted 
a reward. He was not remarkably scrupulous, but 
he observed conventional rules and went soberly be¬ 
cause he knew one must pay for indulgence. 

For all that, he was interested and Jasper’s busi¬ 
ness transactions fired his imagination. Ledward 
frankly acknowledged the old fellow’s cleverness. 
Jasper was not as rich as his relations thought; for 
the most part, he used others’ money and all he 
earned was re-invested in fresh ventures. His 
finance, however, was sound and honest, and his 
shares were worth a considerable sum. 

211 




212 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


Ledward began to think himself fortunate. En¬ 
gineering was not his line, but he had a talent for 
calculation. He knew his help was worth something 
and Jasper had indicated that his reward might be 
generous. He wanted money; for one thing he 
wanted to marry Evelyn. 

Ledward was not romantic, and he knew Evelyn. 
Then he knew Mrs. Haigh, and Evelyn was her 
daughter. In a sense, she was not fastidious, and 
he knew her shallow; shallow was perhaps the proper 
word, because her cleverness, so to speak, was sur¬ 
face cleverness and selfish. For all that, she 
attracted him and he was moved by her beauty. 
When he could support a wife he meant to marry 
Evelyn, and her having engaged to marry Kit was 
not an obstacle. After a time, Jasper one morning 
came to the office. 

“My relations have not heard you have joined me, 
and since you are going to stay, perhaps they ought 
to know,” he said. “On Wednesday my sister-in- 
law and her party will arrive. She and Alan go to 
Hampshire, and Mrs. Haigh visits with some friends 
in Surrey. They will be in town for a day or two 
and will dine with me on Wednesday evening. I 
thought we might announce our agreement. You 
perhaps are not engaged?” 

Ledward said he had not an engagement, and his 
satisfaction was keen, for he had not known if Jasper 
wanted him to stay. Sometimes the old fellow in¬ 
dulged his freakish humor, and Ledward knew he 
studied him. Although he had said nothing about 
Evelyn, Ledward supposed she would arrive with 


MRS. HAIGH’S PLANS 213 

Mrs. Haigh. Perhaps Jasper had wanted to see if 
he would inquire. 

“Then we’ll fix it,” said Jasper, and presently went 
off. 

The dinner was at a famous hotel, and Ledward 
had thought to get there early and meet Evelyn be¬ 
fore his employer was about, but he was occupied by 
some intricate accounts. Jasper had given him the 
awkward job, which could not be left for the morn¬ 
ing, and when Ledward reached the hotel the party 
waited in the big glass-roofed court. 

Crossing the floor, he gave the others an interested 
glance. Mrs. Carson’s smile was friendly and Mrs. 
Haigh’s polite. Ledward thought she speculated 
about his being Jasper’s guest. Evelyn’s look was 
puzzled, and he doubted if Jasper had told his guests 
for whom they waited. 

“I’m sorry, sir, but I felt I must finish the piece 
of work, and when I got away the traffic stopped my 
cab.” 

Jasper nodded, and Alan Carson laughed. 

“For you to be strenuously occupied is something 
fresh!” 

“Harry’s business was rather important and I’m 
accountable for his being late. The work that de¬ 
layed him was mine,” Jasper remarked. “How¬ 
ever, I expect our table’s ready. Shall we go in?” 

The head waiter led them across the polished 
floor, and when they sat down Jasper engaged the 
others in careless talk. Ledward said nothing; he 
felt when Jasper wanted him to speak he would get 
his cue. The old fellow, so to speak, was a good 


214 CARSON OF RED RIVER 

stage manager. In the meantime, Harry studied the 
group. 

Jasper was urbanely inscrutable, but one got a 
sense of command. Alan tried to control his curi¬ 
osity. Mrs. Carson’s clothes were out-of-date, but 
she and Jasper wore a stamp the others did not. Yet 
Mrs. Haigh and Evelyn were fashionable and har¬ 
monized with the expensively dressed crowd. By and 
by Mrs. Carson turned to Ledward. 

“You are quiet, Harry, and w^e have not heard 
from you since you went back to town. Have you 
begun your studies for the Bar?” 

“I have not,” said Ledward smiling, and noting 
Jasper’s glance, resumed: “I rather think I have got 
a better job!” 

“Harry tries to flatter me,” Jasper remarked. 
“Not long since I admitted I got old, and now he has 
agreed to help. I’m glad to acknowledge his help 
is worth something.” 

“Then, he’s at your office?” said Alan with keen 
surprise. 

“That is so,” Jasper agreed, and called a waiter. 
“By and by I expect he will be my head man, and 
perhaps for you to wish the combine good luck would 
not be theatrical.” 

Ledward thought Jasper theatrical. At all events 
he had given the announcement a dramatic touch, 
and Ledward saw he surveyed his guests with dry 
amusement. 

Mrs. Carson’s approval was obvious, but it looked 
as if Alan were annoyed. Evelyn’s look got hard, 
and Mrs. Haigh’s face was slightly red. She had 
got a nasty knock, but she lifted her glass. 


MRS. HAIGH’S PLANS 


215 


“We knew your helper’s cleverness, but it seems 
he has abilities we did not guess/’ she said in a level 
voice. “I hope your experiment will go as you ex¬ 
pect !” 

“Thank you,” said Jasper. “One likes one’s 
friends’ approval. So far as the experiment has gone 
I have good grounds to be satisfied.” 

“You have got the proper man,” said Mrs. 
Carson. “You would not have been satisfied with 
Kit.” 

“It’s possible,” Jasper agreed, and Led ward 
fancied Mrs. Carson had unconsciously given him 
his cue. “I had meant the post for Kit. For one 
thing, he’s my relation and an engineer. I thought 
he might by and by carry on the forge, but I 
acknowledge I’m sometimes cheated.” 

He began to talk about something else and Mrs. 
Haigh supported him, but the effort cost her much, 
and when the others joined she stopped and mused. 
The economy she was forced to practice jarred, and 
Netherdale was a dreary spot; she liked to dine at 
expensive hotels and mix with fashionable people. 
The music, the cultivated voices, and the women’s 
jewels excited her, and she had thought, for a day 
or two, to follow her bent and forget that she was 
poor. 

Mrs. Haigh knew she had social talents, and had 
she the others’ chance, she could make her mark. 
Poverty was an awkward obstacle, and in order to 
mend her broken fortunes she had planned to use 
Evelyn’s beauty. Evelyn was young, and it looked 
as if she were romantic, but Mrs. Haigh knew she 
had inherited much from her. As a rule, she saw 


216 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


where her advantage was, and in puzzling circum¬ 
stances her judgment was unconsciously, and 
perhaps instinctively, sound. For example, she had 
refused to let Kit go. 

Now, however, Mrs. Haigh felt Kit had let her 
down. She doubted if Jasper were often cheated, 
but he had cheated her and calm was hard. All the 
same, Mrs. Haigh’s pluck was good, and she tried 
to be philosophical. Since the plan from which she 
had hoped for much would not work, she must make 
another. She was not yet beaten, and she thought 
Jasper did not know his antagonist. 

After dinner, Jasper and Alan went off for a 
smoke. When Alan lighted a cigarette he frowned. 

“You are a business man and perhaps I ought 
not to meddle; but do you think you can trust 
Harry?” 

“Ledward is your relation.” 

“He's my wife's relation,” Alan rejoined. “I 
don't imply that he'd rob you; but, if he's going to 
be useful, you must give him your confidence. . 

“To some extent, that is so. Well?” 

Alan hesitated. His habit was to hesitate and he 
said awkwardly: “Where you have keen competitors, 
your servants must be stanch. If I carried on a 
business like yours and engaged Harry, I’d use 
some reserve.” 

“Oh, well,” said Jasper, “I reckon I can trust the 
fellow as far as I'm forced. . . He stopped for 
a moment and lighted a cigarette, for he wanted to 
strike a note he had struck before. Alan was dull 
and would not think his doing so significant. 

“Frankness is rather embarrassing,” he resumed. 


MRS. HAIGH’S PLANS 217 

“You see. Kit is my relation, but I don’t feel I 
could reckon on his trustworthiness.” 

“Kit’s straight; we don’t know all,” said Alan 
stubbornly. “In fact, I’m convinced he’s your 
proper helper and I thought you agreed.” 

“You stated something like that before,” Jasper 
remarked, and added with a smile: “Well, it looks 
as if you, and perhaps others, bet on the wrong 
man.” 

Alan frowned, and after a few minutes got up. 

“My wife and Mrs. Haigh are going to the West 
End, and I believe Evelyn means to look up a friend. 
Perhaps I’d better inquire when they want to start.” 

Soon after Jasper went to the smoking-room 
Ledward lighted a cigarette in the court. A band 
played quiet music and people walked about. No¬ 
body came to Ledward’s comer and he was content 
to muse. He saw Jasper had meant the others to 
know he, so to speak, was the favorite, but the old 
fellow’s object was another thing. Anyhow, Jasper 
had undertaken to push him ahead, and since his 
word went, Ledward thought he was entitled to 
enjoy his satisfaction. 

By and by he saw Evelyn on the other side of the 
court. He thought she looked for somebody, but 
he did not see the others and he crossed the floor. 
Evelyn went to a bench under a palm and Ledward 
sat down. 

“I don’t think you congratulated me about my 
good luck,” he said. 

Evelyn’s eyes sparkled. “For you to expect my 
congratulations was rather remarkable! Although 
you were Kit’s friend, you took his post.” 


218 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


“I sympathize with your annoyance, but you re 
not just. You see, I took nothing he wanted from 
Kit. All I got he, in a sense, had already refused. 
Although he’s Jasper’s nephew, he made it plain that 
he would sooner his uncle left him alone.” 

“Perhaps that is so, Kit is independent,” Evelyn 
admitted. 

“Very well! I’m not independent; for one thing 
I’m not rich and for me to refuse a useful occupation 
and first-class pay was ridiculous. Since Kit had 
gone off to Canada and joined his uncle’s com¬ 
petitors, I seized the opportunity he rather scorn¬ 
fully neglected.” 

Evelyn’s color got high and her look was hard, 
but it was not because Ledward offended her. After 
all, Harry was logical, and Kit was not. He was 
not rich and he ought to have cultivated his relation, 
but he indulged his romantic pride. Then, when he 
began to make progress, he again gave up his post. 
In fact, Kit did not think for her. Ledward saw her 
pre-occupation and knew he had struck the proper 
note. 

“We mustn’t dispute about it and I like your 
championing Kit,” he resumed. 

“Ah,” said Evelyn moodily, “perhaps Kit needs 
a champion!” 

Ledward let it go, and for a few minutes they 
talked about something else. Then Mrs. Haigh and 
Mrs. Carson arrived. 

“We must start, and I rather think you ought to 
go with us,” Mrs. Haigh said to Evelyn. 

“Clara expects me, and I can get a cab.” 


MRS. HAIGH’S PLANS 219 

Ledward thought Mrs. Haigh hesitated, and he 
saw his opportunity. 

“If you like and Evelyn agrees, I will take her to 
Miss Chisholm's.” 

Mrs. Haigh thanked him and soon afterwards the 
party went off. Ledward imagined Evelyn had gone 
for her coat and he waited, but when she rejoined 
him she wore her evening clothes. 

“Mother is rather old-fashioned,” she remarked. 
“Since you offered to see me out, I expect you have 
not an engagement?” 

“I have not,” said Ledward. “When you are 
ready I'll send for a cab.” 

Evelyn smiled. “If you don't mind, we might 
stay for a time. I like the music and I like to see 
the people.” 

“Then, we'll stay as long as you like. But what 
about Miss Chisholm? Will she not wait for you?” 

“I'm not very keen about seeing Clara. All I 
wanted was not to be forced to go with mother. 
Perhaps you know the Lomaxes ?" 

Ledward said he did not, and Evelyn resumed: 
“Oh well, they're sober, old-fashioned bores and I 
imagine Mrs. Carson will stay until midnight and 
talk about people they knew when she was young. 
Mother will play up; I rather think she’ll like it. 
But I'd soon be horribly tired.” 

“Then, let's wait,” said Ledward. “The band is 
pretty good, and you can study the fashions.” 

Evelyn saw he wanted to wait, but she had 
reckoned on his agreeing and her annoyance was 
gone. After all, his apology was logical, and she 
was willing to use him. 


220 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


“Perhaps Pm shabby, but I don’t mind very 
much,” she said. “Since I’m in town only for a day 
or two, I want to use every minute. I admit I like 
hotels and shops and fashionable crowds. All is 
interesting, and after Netherdale, one needs some 
stimulation. Then, you see, although Clara’s an art 
student, she’s not the modern sort. She paints 
seriously, and I don’t know much about pictures. 
Now I am in town I want to be excited and to feel 
I am alive.” 

On the whole, Ledward thought she did not 
exaggerate. For a young, ambitious girl Netherdale 
was dull, and he knew Mrs. Haigh’s frugality. He 
sympathized with Evelyn and thought he could 
indulge her. 

“I’ve got something like an inspiration,” he 
remarked. “Suppose you cut out your engagement 
with Miss Chisholm and we go to a theatre? I 
know a good musical comedy and perhaps the house 
is not full.” 

“Oh,” said Evelyn, “it would be splendid! The 
drawback is, I’m afraid mother would not be 
pleased.” 

Ledward had remarked Mrs. Haigh’s willingness 
for him to convey Evelyn to her friend’s studio. 
Moreover he thought a hint of intrigue attracted 
the girl. 

“We might look up Miss Chisholm for a few 
minutes and perhaps take her with us,” he suggested 
carelessly. “Then, if our relations are some time at 
the Lomaxes and we don’t stay for the last act-” 

“I ought to refuse,” said Evelyn, and then gave 



MRS. HAIGHTS PLANS 221 

Ledward a smile. “Sometimes one does things one 
ought not. Let’s go!” 

She went for her cloak. Ledward went to the 
telephone and ordered a cab. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


blake's confession 

E VELYN went to the musical comedy and the 
excursion carried a thrill. She was young, and 
to steal off with Ledward was something of an 
adventure. Ledward knew Evelyn better than she 
imagined and he humored her cleverly. Although 
he declared her going was justified, he contrived to 
give the excursion a touch of intimate secrecy. 
Evelyn had inherited some skill for intrigue, and she 
rather liked to feel she and Harry were conspirators. 
In fact, she admitted that for all to know she went 
with him would rob the evening of its charm. 

Three or four days afterwards Evelyn and a 
young relation started for the post-office at a Surrey 
village. A long row of red-roofed houses began by 
the railway and stopped at the wide heath; the 
tarred road and high telegraph posts went on to 
London. Mrs. Haigh had not gone back to town, 
and Evelyn began to feel that she was bored. Her 
hosts were not fashionabje, and the people she met 
did not interest her. Then Hannah Grant was 
recently from school, and a raw girl's society had 
not much charm. 

By and by a car crossed the heath and stopped by 
222 


BLAKE’S CONFESSION 


223 


the post-office. The driver called a telegraph boy 
and then went slowly up the street as if he looked 
for a house. After a few moments Evelyn’s dulness 
vanished; the man was Harry Ledward and she 
knew he looked for Mrs. Grant’s. She waved and 
he stopped by the path. 

“The weather’s good and when I got to the office 
Jasper stated I might take a holiday/’ he said. “I 
thought I’d look you up and risk your being 
occupied. What does one do here on a fine after¬ 
noon?” 

“We play golf,” Evelyn replied. “Sometimes we 
go for a walk.” 

Ledward smiled and Hannah Grant gave him an 
approving look. 

“Sometimes one gets deadly bored,” she remarked. 
“Well, we can give you tea and polite conversation, 
but perhaps you’d like a round of golf? My handi¬ 
cap’s thirty and Evelyn foozles.” 

“I’ve another plan,” said Ledward. “I wonder 
whether you and Evelyn would like to run to town? 
But perhaps you go often and it does not attract you 
much?” 

“I go when return tickets are cheap,” Hannah 
replied. “If you want to take Evelyn, you must take 
me. Mother and Mrs. Haigh are very proper, but 
I don’t mind admitting I am not. Besides I’d love to 
go!” 

“Then, jump up. Where’s your house?” 

“At the end of the row; the pond is in front. 
Father declares it gives the spot a rural touch and 
he likes the white ducks. The drawback is the ducks 


224 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


are not its only occupants. . . . But get in, Evelyn. 
Your part's to persuade mother.” 

“To begin with, we must persuade Evelyn,” said 
Ledward and started the car. 

Hannah smiled, but she said nothing, and when 
they stopped at a new rough-cast house Ledward 
was not forced to use much persuasion. 

“I wonder whether you would like to see a play,” 
he said to Mrs. Haigh. “There's a rather good 
matinee, and I would drive you down in the evening. 
The car carries four passengers.” 

Mrs. Haigh and Mrs. Grant refused politely, but 
they agreed for Evelyn and Hannah to go. The 
girls went off to get other clothes, and Hannah 
stopped for a moment at Evelyn's room. 

“I like the lean, dark type, and Mr. Ledward's 
rather fat; otherwise I think him top-hole,” she 
said. “You feel he knows something; and for the 
most part very young men are fools. Your mother's 
a sport, but since you have a lover in Canada, per¬ 
haps her letting you go was strange.” 

“Harry's an old friend and almost like a rela¬ 
tion,” Evelyn replied and sent Hannah off, but 
when she shut the door she pondered. 

Kit was in Canada. There was the trouble, 
because Evelyn felt he need not have gone. She 
knew he had not cheated the shipyard company. 
Kit did not cheat, but he was ridiculously proud and 
he ought not to be generous where his generosity 
cost her much. Harry, of course, was another sort, 
and Evelyn knew him selfish, but she approved his 
cleverness, and to some extent he attracted her. 
Anyhow, she liked excitement, and in a few days 


BLAKE’S CONFESSION 225 

she would be back at Netherdale. She got up and 
thoughtfully studied her clothes and hats. 

A week or two afterward, Jasper, going to a 
Cumberland ironworks, stopped for the week-end at 
Netherhall. The evening he arrived was cold and a 
savage wind beat the thick walls. After dinner the 
party went to the drawing-room fire, and by and by 
a servant carried in a card. 

"The gentleman is in the hall.” 

Alan Carson took the card and turned to Jasper. 
"Thomas Blake; a Glasgow address! Looks like 
a business card. I don’t know the fellow. Perhaps 
a shipbuilding customer has got on your track.” 

"I’ll see what he wants,” said Jasper and went off 
with the servant. 

A fire burned in the big hall, but only one lamp 
was lighted and the illumination did not carry far. 
A young man and woman waited by the fireplace and 
got up when Jasper advanced. The girl’s look was 
embarrassing and her face was pinched by cold. 
Her clothes were ordinary outdoor clothes, and 
Jasper thought them cheap. The young man’s look 
was resolute. 

"Mr. Carson? Christopher Carson’s uncle?” he 
inquired. 

Jasper was interested. He thought Blake wanted 
Alan, but he did not yet know if the young fellow 
ought to see him. 

"Christopher is my nephew. Perhaps you were 
his friend at the shipyard?” 

"He thought me his friend,” the other replied and 
indicated Mrs. Blake. "I could not leave my wife 
in the car; when we were on the moors the wind 


226 CARSON OF RED RIVER 

broke the hood. Besides, I rather wanted her 
support. 

Jasper turned and pointed to a seat in the corner 
by the big grate. 

“When the Hellan wind blows down the fells the 
cold is keen,” he said, and rang for a servant. 
“Bring some wine and sandwiches, and let Mrs. 
Carson know I’ll be engaged for a time.” 

Mrs. Blake drained her glass and went to the 
fire, for she was very cold and bore some strain. 
Jasper knitted his brows and waited. Mabel thought 
he harmonized with the big austere hall and dark 
panelling, but somehow he was like Kit, and she 
was vaguely comforted. Blake pushed back his 
glass. 

“I thank you for your kindness to my wife, but 
I mustn’t take your hospitality. Well, I was at 
Newcastle and I resolved to see you. To begin with, 
do you know where Kit Carson is?” 

“Kit is in Canada. Perhaps I could find him, but 
I don’t know.” 

“You imply that you were willing to leave him 
alone?” said Mrs. Blake. “Well, Kit need not have 
gone! You must tell him he need not and you must 
try to bring him back-” 

Jasper had begun to see a light, and he gave Mrs. 
Blake a smile. “It looks as if my nephew had a 
strong champion; but I doubt if he would come back. 
He is independent, and I understand he’s satisfied in 
Canada. You might, however, state your grounds 
for thinking he need not have gone, unless, perhaps, 
your husband feels he ought to do so.” 

Mrs. Blake was puzzled. When Kit talked about 



BLAKE’S CONFESSION 


227 


his uncle he said Alan was a kind old fellow and a 
good sort, but somehow Mabel had pictured a rather 
futile country sportsman. Carson, however, was not 
at all like the portrait Kit had unconsciously drawn. 
Jasper saw she was puzzled and thought he could 
account for it. Then Blake faced him as if he tried 
to brace up. 

“If you will give me a few minutes, I’ll try to 
enlighten you. When Kit was at the shipyard he 
was our friend and was often at our flat. Perhaps 
you know about the small, fast steamer we built for 
a foreign government ?” 

Jasper nodded. “Your boat was beaten. The 
opposition yard used a better boiler.” 

“They used our boiler. You see, the head drafts¬ 
man and Kit had worked out improvements we could 
not patent. The opposition people bought the plans.” 

“The company is large and important. I doubt if 
the directors would agree to bribe a competitor’s 
servant.” 

“It’s possible the directors did not know. 
Managers and secretaries transact the business, and 
perhaps you can picture an ambitious head drafts¬ 
man’s saying nothing. Then, the bribe was not very 
large, and might be charged to an account. As a 
rule directors don’t investigate-” 

“All are not confiding,” Jasper remarked dryly. 
“However, your employers believed somebody did 
sell the plans, and Kit was implicated.” 

“That is so, sir,” said Blake, and his face got red. 
“Kit had nothing to do with it. I stole the plans!” 

“Ah!” said Jasper. “Now I begin to see why 



228 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


you wanted Mrs. Blake’s support! I suppose she 
urged you to make your rather late.confession?” 

“Tom was slow, Mr. Carson, but it was for my 
sake he took the bribe,” said Mrs. Blake. “His pay 
was small and he had debts he did not want me to 
bother about. All the same, I cannot justify him; 
there is no proper apology.” 

“How long have you known your husband’s 
part?” Jasper inquired. 

Mrs. Blake blushed, but she faced the stern old 
man. Although his look was daunting, somehow 
she was not afraid. 

“I think I knew for some time. At all events, 
I knew Kit did not steal the plans, but I hated to 
think Tom did so. Then to inquire got harder; 
I dared not run the risk. All the same, I was 
bothered about Kit. He did not write and we could 
get no news, but we knew he had not much money.” 

Jasper nodded. A woman’s habit was to fight for 
her child, and perhaps she was justified. 

“Kit, no doubt, intimated that his relations were 
not poor.” 

“Ah,” said Mrs. Blake, “so long as you thought 
him dishonest, we knew he w r ould not take your 
help!” 

“I rather think you know my nephew,” Jasper 
remarked, and turned to Blake. “Well, at length 
you allowed your wife to persuade you to be honest! 
Since the company could not send you to jail, frank¬ 
ness would not have cost you very much at the 
beginning.” 

“I was afraid for my post, sir. Had the company 
sent me off, I was done for. Then my luck began 


BLAKE’S CONFESSION 


229 


to turn. I patented an invention, a manufacturer 
was interested. The thing began to go, and now 
we have started a workshop-” 

“You are not rash,” said Jasper dryly. “When 
you no longer wanted your post, you resolved to 
vindicate your pal! Have you informed the ship¬ 
yard manager that Kit is innocent?” 

“When I get to Glasgow I’ll write a letter,” Blake 
replied with some embarrassment. “I thought I’d 
first see you and find out where Kit was.” 

Jasper knitted his brows. Blake obviously 
thought him Alan, but Alan must not meet the 
fellow. For a time he would sooner the others did 
not know Kit was vindicated. Jasper was sorry for 
Mrs. Blake; the car’s hood was broken and she had 
not proper clothes. For all that, he must let her go. 

“You must write to Mr. Colvin; but you had 
better state you have informed me,” he said to Blake. 
“I doubt if you can cross the moors, but there is an 
inn not far aff.” 

“We must get back to the main road; we tele¬ 
graphed for a room at a Carlisle hotel.” 

“It will be some time before you get to Carlisle, 
and Mrs. Blake will need food,” said Jasper. 

Mabel ate some sandwiches and forced one or two 
on Blake, and then Jasper let them go. When they 
started he went back to the drawing-room. 

“The fellow was an engineer and his wife was 
with him,” he said to Mrs. Carson. “I gave them 
some wine and sandwiches.” 

“Of course,” said Mrs. Carson. “Since he did 
not stop for the storm, I expect his business was 
important.” 

“In a way it was important,” Jasper agreed. 



CHAPTER XXIV 


A STOLEN EXCURSION 

D USK had begun,to fall, and Evelyn, returning 
from Netherdale village, stopped at the 
garden gate. Dark came early, Mrs. Haigh was not 
at home, and the evening would be long. In winter 
the evenings were intolerably long, and Evelyn 
rather moodily looked about. 

A half-moon rose behind the trees and the wind 
had dropped. The sheep knew the night would be 
fine and went up the hill to pastures by the limestone 
crags. On the long, dark slopes their faint bleating 
was musical. Down the dale, where all was indis¬ 
tinct, a farm dog barked. 

The silver-firs about the house were sharp, black 
spires, but the moon touched their tops and the 
needles reflected the light. Evelyn smelt resin, and 
thyme in a plot across the hedge. Sometimes, when 
Kit was with her, she had sensed the beauty of the 
quiet dale, but Kit was gone and all was flat. 

Evelyn knew her beauty. She wanted excitement 
and admiration; in fact, she wanted to try her 
power. Yet when she married Kit she must, perhaps 
for long, be resigned to sober economy, and rather 
230 


A STOLEN EXCURSION 231 

give than get. Evelyn was not generous, and she 
vaguely knew she had not much to give. 

Mrs. Haigh was poor, and although at Netherdale 
she was important, she owed much to Mrs. Carson's 
friendship and, so to speak, shone in the other's 
reflected light. Mrs. Carson, however, forced one 
to pay for her favors. Her rewards were not very 
liberal, but her punishments were stern. 

There was the puzzle, for although Mrs. Carson 
did not approve Kit, Mrs. Haigh had been his friend 
and sometimes his resolute defender. Recently 
Evelyn had begun to remark a change. Mrs. Haigh 
did not talk much about Kit, and * when she did 
talk she was apologetic. Then it looked as if she 
began to cultivate Harry Led ward; at all events, 
she was willing for him to cultivate Evelyn. 

On the whole, Evelyn liked Harry, and she was 
annoyed by Kit's carelessness. Jasper Carson was 
his uncle, and his duty was to push his nephew 
ahead, but Kit had antagonized the old fellow. 
Then Kit had given up a good post in Canada. His 
letter was vague, but Evelyn was persuaded he had 
allowed a rash impulse to carry him away. All the 
same, to brood about it would not help, and she 
opened the gate. 

In the path she stopped. An engine throbbed, a 
bright beam sped along the hedge, and a car rolled 
up to the gate. Led ward jumped down and pulled 
off his thick gloves. 

“My luck's in! I did not know if you were at 
home.” 

“Your doubting's strange,” Evelyn rejoined. 





232 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


“Our rule is to be at home, but to-night mother is 
not, and she will not be back for two or three days.” 

“Then I expect it’s dull for you,” said Ledward. 
“You don't like to be alone.” 

Evelyn remarked his sympathy. Kit would not 
have thought about her being lonely. 

“Are you at Netherhall?” she inquired. 

“I was at Sheffield and am going to meet my 
employer at Netherhall. When he was called to a 
steelworks on the coast I took the road. Will you 
come and look at my new car?” 

Evelyn went. She was not at all a mechanic but 
she knew the small car was expensive, and she was 
envious. It would be long before Kit could buy her 
a toy like that. She pictured his playing the violin 
for the cook, and by contrast with Ledward's ex¬ 
travagance the picture jarred. 

“From Sheffield is a long way,” she said in a 
careless voice. “I suppose the car is fast?” 

“Would you like to try? The evening's fine and 
the wind is gone.” 

“If you will come in, I can give you some tea, and 
I might afterwards go to Netherhall.” 

“I have another plan. Suppose we get tea at 
Hadriansford ? I reckon we could get there in 
forty minutes. The road's pretty good.” 

Evelyn hesitated. Hadriansford was twenty 
miles off, and Mrs. Haigh was not at home. All the 
same, she wanted to go. To steal off to the little 
town would banish her moodiness. 

“If we could be back in two hours-” 

“I'll promise to do so,” Ledward replied, and 
Evelyn went for a thick coat. 




A STOLEN EXCURSION 


233 


The car climbed a long hill, and at the top Evelyn 
looked about. Although the moon was shining, the 
sunset was not gone, and far off across the misty 
plain the sky was red. In front, the moor, broken 
by dark gullies and dotted by sparkling pools, rolled 
back in the moonlight, and the wet road was like a 
silver riband. A curfew called, and the high, 
trembling note gave the wilds a touch of mystery. 

Evelyn admitted that all was beautiful, and she 
pictured Kit’s enthusiasm for the moors when they 
picnicked at the tarn. The open spaces called Kit; 
he was romantic and followed his bent. He stood 
for something fine and elusive, and she had tried to 
play up, but her pluck was not like Kit’s. Where 
she hesitated he went joyously forward. 

Ledward was rather her sort; he stood for 
prudence, comfort and conventional rules. Although 
he had tempted her to adventures, she knew she 
risked nothing. Harry, so to speak, was safe and 
solid. Now he wore his thick driving coat his figure 
was bulky, but its bulkiness was somehow reassur¬ 
ing. He kept the crown of the road, and when they 
plunged into a ghyll his foot was on the brake. 
Evelyn approved his caution, but Kit would have 
let the car go. 

“You are Jasper Carson’s secretary, are you not?” 
she said. 

“I rather think I’m his factotum Ledward 
replied with a laugh. “I help where he reckons my 
help is useful, and undertake odd jobs.” 

“Kit was really the man for Jasper.” 

“That is so,” Ledward agreed. “Had Kit wanted 
the post, it was his, but he did not. However, I 


234 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


think you admitted I did not push him out. When 
Jasper engaged me Kit was gone.” 

Evelyn acknowledged that she could not logically 
make Ledward accountable. Kit ought to have 
stayed and claimed all that was his. 

“Do you like Jasper ?” she resumed. 

“I don't know,” said Ledward in a thoughtful 
voice. “The old fellow's just, and although I'm his 
servant he's polite. All the same, he’s baffling, and 
his humor's grim. Sometimes I feel he's cynically 
amused, but I cannot see the joke.” 

He stopped, and Evelyn thought he pondered. 
The moon got bright and the pools in the road 
sparkled. The moor was gray and silver, and 
melted into blue; on one side, faint black hills cut 
the sky. In the distance were two or three dim 
lights. A covey of grouse flew noisily across the 
headlamp's beam. When they vanished all was 
quiet but for a little beck in the heather. The 
tinkling splash got louder, and Evelyn saw the road 
went down-hill. 

“In the North evenings like this are not numer¬ 
ous,” Ledward remarked. “When the moon's on 
the heather and the sky is serene, the moor has some 
charm.” 

“When all you hear is the wind and the sheep, 
serenity gets monotonous,” Evelyn rejoined. “In 
winter Netherdale's deadly quiet, and winter is not 
short. I like crowds and lights and noise, and some¬ 
times I feel the dale's a prison. Perhaps it explains 
my agreeing to our excursion.” 

“Hadriansford is not remarkably noisy. Then 
you have some social functions; perhaps festivities 


A STOLEN EXCURSION 235 

is not the word. For example, Mrs. Holroyd gives 
a ball. I suppose you’re going?” 

“Oh, yes,” said Evelyn. “A ball for us is an im¬ 
portant event. We get two a year, and as soon as 
the night is fixed one begins to calculate. You 
see, to disguise a modern frock is hard, and to bring 
an old one up-to-date is almost impossible. Well, 
one goes, and when one comes back one feels like 
Cinderella; only the prince does not arrive.” 

“The prince is occupied in Canada! Well, Kit 
is something of a prince. Anyhow, we have some 
grounds to think him royally generous, and he’s 
royally extravagant.” 

“Is extravagance royal?” Evelyn inquired, and 
her voice was hard, for she weighed Ledward’s 
remark. 

“I admit I don’t know; but Kit’s royalty is not 
modern and constitutional. He goes back to the old 
spacious days of the minstrels and wandering 
knights. Perhaps Richard Lion-heart is his type. 
You can picture Kit’s stealing across Austria; he’d 
think it a first-class joke. Was he not something 
like a minstrel at the Canadian camp? Richard, 
however, did not cheat his enemy, and to get him 
out of jail cost his subjects much.” 

Evelyn smiled, but she wondered whether Harry 
implied that others must pay for Kit’s exploits. If 
it were so, he did not exaggerate, for she had begun 
to meet the bill. 

They crossed the edge of the tableland; the road 
went down steeply and in the distance the reflections 
from a furnace glimmered in the sky. Lights dotted 
the dale, and chimney-stacks and smoke marked a 


236 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


coalpit. A shining train curved along the hillside 
and vanished. Then the road went round a bend 
and Ledward slowed the engine. 

“The moors and the moonlight are done with. 
We are going down to the gas-lamps and ground 
we know; in fact, I think we are going where we 
belong/’ 

“It looks as if you were happy to get back,” said 
Evelyn. 

“Oh, well, when you’re not romantic the heights 
are bleak and cold. On the whole I’m not romantic. 
My job’s where people make things and dispute 
about the price.” 

“You like a safe job?” 

“Safety first is a useful rule,” Ledward agreed. 
“For all that, where I thought a risk worth while 
I might risk something.” 

The hill got steeper and he concentrated on his 
driving. Dry-stone walls enclosed boggy fields, and 
one side a high bank bordered the curving road. The 
splash of water indicated that a little beck flowed 
through the gloom. 

By and by the bank cut the view, and when the 
car went round the curve Ledward’s foot jarred on 
the brake. A few yards off, a smoky light melted 
in the headlamp’s beam, and Evelyn saw a cart 
across the road. Nobody was by the horse, but 
boots rattled on the stones and a dark figure jumped 
from a gate. 

The cart carried a load of turnips and the horse’s 
head was down. Where the rope-traces rubbed, the 
animal’s coat was white, and the steam from its 
sweating body floated about. In the dazzling beam 


A STOLEN EXCURSION 237 

all was distinct; cart and running driver leaped out 
of the dark like a cinema picture. 

Evelyn knew the man could not reach the horse 
in time to avoid a collision. Ledward could not 
stop the car, and the horse was at the side by which 
he ought to pass. He swerved, let the brake go, and 
steered for the bank. The wheels went up, the car 
tilted, and Evelyn was flung about. Ledward stuck 
to the wheel, the inclined seat got level, and they 
were in the road. 

"All’s right, I think,” Ledward gasped, but 
Evelyn knew him cool. "There’s not much use in 
stopping; I don’t expect the fellow would argue 
logically. Besides, he was forced to open the gate, 
and if the horse had fronted up the hill it could not 
have held the load.” 

"Don’t talk!” said Evelyn. "There’s another 
corner.” 

"I don’t expect another cart,” Ledward rejoined, 
and steered round the curve. 

For a time Evelyn was quiet. Harry had not 
boasted; where a risk was justified he did not 
hesitate. Had he tried to stop, they must have 
struck the horse. She pictured the broken car, the 
plunging animal, and herself, battered by its iron 
shoes. Well, Harry had saved her. He was not 
at all athletic, but his nerve was good, and she 
mechanically contrasted him and Kit. Kit was 
moved by impulse; Harry calculated and went where 
he resolved to go. Evelyn thought he would go far. 

The valley got wide and lights dotted the slope 
to a river. By and by Evelyn saw noble trees and 
an abbey behind the branches; then they rolled across 



238 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


a quiet market-place, by a dark tower, and up a 
broad street. Led ward stopped in front of a white 
hotel, and they went to the spacious old-fashioned 
dining-room. Ledward pulled out his watch. 

“If we must be back when you stipulate, we ought 
to start in half an hour.” 

“My holidays are not numerous, and since I did 
steal off, I think I might risk another hour,” said 
Evelyn with a smile. 

Ledward summoned a waitress, and the food she 
brought was good. But for two gentlemen at the 
other end, the big room was quiet, and Evelyn began 
to talk carelessly. 

“You are Mrs. Carson's relation, and she was a 
Netherdale Loreburn,” she said after a time. “The 
Carsons are another type. Do you know much 
about them ?” 

“I know something about Jasper Carson. It 
looks as if he interested you!” 

“People do interest me, and Jasper's a command¬ 
ing figure,” Evelyn agreed in a thoughtful voice. 
“Sometimes I imagine he rules us, but I mustn't be 
fanciful—Kit claimed his independence and defied 
his uncle.” 

“I wonder,” said Ledward. “Jasper likes control 
and people go where he wants. However, all I 
really know about the Carsons is: Jasper's grand¬ 
father was a blacksmith; he started a little machine 
shop and mended things for Lancashire cotton mills. 
He obviously got rich, for his son, Thomas Carson, 
built a foundry, and afterwards a forge. Canada 
was developing and for some time bought iron goods 
in England. The Carsons cultivated the trade and 


A STOLEN EXCURSION 


239 


Canadian manufacturers liked their stuff. Since 
then they have speculated in Canadian industries. 
The connection between some English families and 
the Dominions is rather remarkable-” 

“Mrs. Carson’s lot go to India,” said Evelyn. 
“But please don’t stop.” 

“Thomas Carson had three sons. Jasper got the 
forge, which is now famous; Alan, for a time, 
carried on the foundry; Kit’s father went to a ship¬ 
yard and married a concert singer. When he died 
he was poor. In fact, only Jasper seems to have 
inherited the blacksmith’s talent.” 

“Nothing indicates that Jasper’s ancestor was a 
blacksmith.” 

“Oh, well,” said Ledward, “the old fellow’s culti¬ 
vated and his friends are famous steelmakers and 
engineers. All the same, sometimes one senses the 
Lancashire workman’s vein. I think my aunt does 
so, and Jasper knows. On the whole, I expect he’s 
amused, but his springing from the old Lancashire 
radical may account for some antagonism. Any¬ 
how, I am cautious, although he’s a just, and rather 
kind, employer. Well, I mustn’t bore you! The 
theatre is shut, but I see a good picture advertised. 
Should we look in?” 

“Let’s go, said Evelyn. “Mother would not ap¬ 
prove, but after Netherdale the cinema’s exciting.” 

They went to the picture house and stayed for 
a time. The film was not remarkably exciting, but 
to sit in the dark by Ledward carried a thrill of 
intrigue for Evelyn. When they were in the street 
Ledward went towards the station. 





240 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


“The hour you fixed is nearly up; but we might 
get some new magazines at the railway bookstall.” 

He bought Evelyn one or two women's magazines, 
and then a train arrived, and they waited to let the 
passengers go by. A big lamp was overhead, and 
not far off a gate opened to the road. By and by 
Evelyn turned rather quickly and Ledward looked 
round. Jasper Carson came along the platform. 

Ledward calculated. The gate was six or seven 
yards off, but since the people steered for the main 
door, he and Evelyn, standing by the bookstall, 
were rather conspicuous. He gave Evelyn a careless 
glance and thought her disturbed, but she obviously 
waited for him. Ledward would sooner Carson had 
not got off the train. 

“We’ll meet him; I don’t suppose he’ll keep us 
long,” he said, and they crossed the platform. 

Jasper stopped and gave Evelyn a smile, and 
Ledward a nod. 

“I thought you started soon after breakfast, 
Harry. Did the car bother you?” 

“The car went very well, sir, and I got to Nether- 
dale some time since. The evening was fine, you 
have kept me pretty busy, and I thought I’d like 
a run across the moors. Miss Haigh was willing to 
spend an hour at Hadrians ford. We got tea and 
went to the pictures.” 

“Exactly!” said Jasper. “Your explanation’s 
rather long. Were I young, I would feel Miss 
Haigh’s willingness was all I need state. But my 
train goes in a few minutes and I must telegraph 
Alan to send the car. I suppose he does not expect 
me until the morning?” 


A STOLEN EXCURSION 241 

“I was not at Netherhall. You see, I stopped at 
Mrs. Haigh’s-” 

“Then, since your aunt does not know you were 
in the neighborhood, she will not wonder why you 
do not arrive,” Jasper remarked. “If you drive 
fast you may get back for dinner. Well, my porter 
waits. Good-night, Miss Haigh!” 

He crossed the platform and the others went to 
the hotel. Ledward talked carelessly, but he was 
annoyed, and Evelyn was thoughtful. Jasper had 
indicated that he sympathized and would not 
enlighten his hosts about their excursion. The 
trouble was, his doing so implied that he knew the 
excursion was stolen. Moreover, he knew Evelyn 
was, conditionally, engaged to marry Kit. 

Jasper sent his telegram, and when the train 
started smiled, a cynical smile that nevertheless 
carried a hint of satisfaction. 




CHAPTER XXV 


ledward’s present 

E VELYN folded her ball dress and tried to be 
resigned. The dress was a triumph for clever 
economy, but it was not all she wanted, and she 
thought luckier girls would know the country mil¬ 
liner’s touch. The shoes and gloves, for which she 
had sent to town, however, ought to be good, and 
would soon arrive by the evening post. 

After a few minutes she heard steps on the gravel 
path, and a servant carried in some letters and 
packages. Mrs. Haigh gave Evelyn the packages 
and cut open the envelopes. By and by she looked 
up. 

“The letter is from Kit; he sticks to his under¬ 
taking scrupulously. Some time must go before his 
next letter is due, but he thought he might be allowed 
to write me, and his news is not very good. He’s 
still at the company’s workshops, and doubts if he 
will get back to the bridge. I imagine he’s dis¬ 
turbed about it; but you can have the letter. It’s 
not at all romantic.” 

“Kit is scrupulous,” said Evelyn, and took the 
letter. 

The lamp was between her and Mrs. Haigh, and 
242 


LEDWARD’S PRESENT 


243 


to know she could not be studied was some relief. 
On the surface, Kit's remarks were cheerful, but 
Evelyn knew him to be disappointed and saw he 
thought he must be frank. He got the same pay 
as at the bridge, but his work was a junior drafts¬ 
man's work. At the drawing office one could not 
use one's abilities, promotion was slow, and so forth, 

Evelyn frowned, for although she was sorry for 
Kit she was resentful. Kit did not know when his 
luck was good. In England, his folly had cost him 
his uncle's support; in Canada he had, with typical 
rashness, refused to seize a fresh opportunity. Well, 
she must not allow Kit's disappointment to damp her 
spirits for the ball, and she began to open the 
packages. 

The shoes and gloves were satisfactory, and she 
picked up a small cardboard box. She thought she 
had ordered nothing that would go into the box, and 
with some curiosity she broke the seal. Inside was 
a Russia leather case, and' in the case a jewel. 
Evelyn's eyes sparkled, but she covered the box 
with her hand. Mrs. Haigh studied a document, 
and her look implied that the document was the 
dressmaker's bill. Evelyn took a card from the box 
and knew Ledward's hand. He stated that her 
birthday was soon and he hoped she would wear his 
present at the ball. If he could get there he would 
claim a dance. 

For a few minutes Evelyn was very quiet. Her 
birthday was not yet, but it looked as if Harry knew 
she wanted an ornament for her ball dress. He 
knew her proper color; Harry noted things like that. 







244 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


The trouble was, he would think her wearing his 
present significant, and she had meant to use Kit’s. 

The jewel Kit had given her was small and the 
setting plain. Harry’s was large, and the goldsmith 
had used his art to mark its beauty. Evelyn noted 
the contrast. She ought to wear Kit’s humble gift 
and send back the other, but she hesitated. Her 
jewels were few; the splendid stone sparkled, and 
she would hate to let it go. Then Harry would 
see all her refusal implied. 

Evelyn admitted she did not want him to see. Kit 
was her lover, but he was at the Canadian bridge 
works and she must stay at dreary Netherdale. 
Sometimes Harry banished the dreariness, and al¬ 
though he was not, like Kit, romantic, he was clever 
and would be rich. He stood for much she wanted: 
modem cultivation, fashion, and the thrill of the city. 
If she married Led ward- 

She stopped. She did not want to marry Led- 
ward, but she saw where she rather carelessly went, 
and where Ledward, who was not at all careless, 
tried to steer her. In the meantime she must wear 
one of the two presents, and she shrank from choos¬ 
ing. Besides, if she chose Harry’s she could not 
cheat her mother. Getting up, she carried the box 
to Mrs. Haigh. 

“The note is Harry Led ward’s.” 

Mrs. Haigh took the jewel, and when it sparkled 
under the lamp her mouth got tight. Then she 
studied the writing on the card and smiled. 

“He shows some tact.” 

“Harry is tactful,” said Evelyn. “But I don’t 
see what I ought to do.” 



LEDWARD’S PRESENT 


245 


Mrs. Haigh gave her a keen glance. Evelyn’s 
color was rather high and her hands were not still. 

“My rules are old-fashioned, but when I was a 
girl one took presents only from the man one was 
going to marry. In the circumstances, your hesi¬ 
tating is perhaps ominous.” 

“I rather think some modern girls take all the 
presents they can get,” Evelyn remarked. 

“Had Harry considered you their sort, he would 
not have sent the jewel.” 

“Then you think I might keep his present?” 

“I think you ought to weigh things; perhaps you 
have begun to do so,” Mrs. Haigh replied in a mean¬ 
ing voice. “Kit is an attractive fellow, but some 
talent for engineering and music is all he has.” 

“Yet you knew his poverty and you were his 
champion!” 

“I am Kit’s friend, but I am your mother, and 
I would sooner you did not begin a fight like mine. 
To go without is not all the trouble; poverty means 
hateful shabbiness and humiliating pretense. Then 
Kit was not forced to be poor. He was willing, in 
a sense he chose, to be poor.” 

Evelyn felt the statement was accurate, and she 
waited. For a few moments Mrs. Haigh pondered 
and then resumed: 

“Kit is properly Jasper Carson’s heir, and I be¬ 
lieved Jasper meant to acknowledge his claim. His 
plan was to try Kit at the shipyard, and if he was 
satisfied send him to the forge. By and by Kit 
might have been his partner. The trial was not 
satisfactory-” 



246 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


“But you admitted you did not doubt Kit's 
innocence." 

“I think Kit, carried away by his boyish gener¬ 
osity, paid for another's fault," Mrs. Haigh agreed. 
“The important thing is, Jasper knew. When Kit 
resolved to start for Canada, his uncle was willing 
to help, and although Kit did not want his help, I 
doubt if he was offended. He liked the boy’s inde¬ 
pendence. In fact, Kit got his chance to vindicate 
himself." 

Evelyn saw a light and the blood came to her skin. 
Kit’s innocence and his romantic charm had not 
moved her mother. Only his uncle’s suppostitious 
plans for him had weighed. Mrs. Haigh had 
reckoned on his being Jasper’s heir. 

“You imply he disappointed Jasper another time?" 

“It is rather obvious," Mrs. Haigh replied. “As 
soon as Kit arrived in Canada he joined his uncle’s 
antagonists. Then he gave up his appointment and 
went to the bridge works, where he admits he can¬ 
not make much progress. He does not state why he 
went, but I expect something like a repetition of his 
folly at the shipyard accounts for it. Well, Jasper 
Carson is sternly practical, and has no use for fools. 
He has done with Kit!" 

“You want me to copy Jasper?" said Evelyn in a 
queer, hard voice. 

“I want you to consider. That is all," said Mrs. 
Haigh, and went off quietly. 

Evelyn put away her clothes and gloves and sat 
down by the fire; she felt she did not want to go to 
the ball. Harry was going, and he had forced her 


LEDWARD'S PRESENT 247 

to indicate whether she was loyal to Kit. If she sent 
back his present, he would know. 

Then her mother's calculating cleverness jarred. 
Mrs. Haigh had supported Kit because she thought 
him Jasper's favorite; when she knew he was not 
she supported Ledward. She knew where to* stop, 
and when she had pointed out the consequences, of 
Kit's folly she allowed Evelyn to finish the argu¬ 
ment. Since Harry had the advantages Kit ought to 
have got, the argument was plain. 

Although Evelyn knew herself shabby, the ad¬ 
vantages weighed. She liked a noble part, and until 
Kit let her down she had meant to be noble. 
Romance called, but to follow romance one must be 
brave, and Evelyn knew her pluck was not very 
great. Besides, Harry attracted her; he was really 
her sort, and to some extent Kit was not. In fact, 
had she not known Kit- 

Mechanically she picked up the leather case and 
pressed the spring. The jewel flashed in the light, 
and she knew she would hate to send it back. She 
would go to the ball and trust her luck. 

The ballroom at the big country house was 
crowded and the floor was good. Evelyn was a 
graceful dancer and her partners were numerous, 
but she refused to fill her card. Since she had put 
on Harry's present he was entitled to some reward. 
Yet she was not ready to give all she thought he 
claimed, and she rather hoped he would not arrive. 
In the meantime the music, the crowd and the beat 
of feet carried her away. She liked excitement and 
admiration, and she followed her bent. When the 
dance was over she must go back, like Cinderella, 



248 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


to Mrs. Haigh’s quiet house. Evelyn felt she hated 
the bleak moors, the savage wind, and the clouds 
that rolled about Netherdale. 

At length, when she talked to a young sportsman, 
Led ward crossed the floor. By contrast with her 
brown-skinned, athletic partner, Harry’s figure was 
bulky, but he carried his weight well, and Evelyn 
noted his urbane confidence. He had remarked that 
she wore the jewel, and her heart beat. 

“I hope you have not forgotten me,” he said, and 
took her from the other. 

“I have kept two dances.” 

“Then I claim both. I don’t know if one can earn 
a favor like that, but I’ve made some effort. We 
lunched at Glasgow with a shipyard manager who 
wanted some expensive forgings for a new liner, and 
for some time it looked as if I ought to stay; but 
Jasper’s a sport, and when he knew I’d fixed to 
meet you he sent me off. Then the express was late, 
and at Carlisle my train was gone. I was forced to 
use the other line and hire a car for twenty miles.” 

“You were very keen.” 

“I don’t boast. All I wanted was to apologize 
because I did not arrive before,” Led ward rejoined. 

Evelyn doubted. She thought Harry wanted to 
imply that he was occupied by important trans¬ 
actions and, so to speak, stood for power and riches. 
To some extent he did so, but the power was Jasper 
Carson’s, and Harry admitted that Jasper let him 
go. Somehow it bothered Evelyn. She was vaguely, 
and perhaps instinctively, afraid of Jasper. 

“At all events, your keenness was rather nice,” 


LEDWARD’S PRESENT 249 

she said with a smile, and allowed Ledward to steer 
her into the dance. 

The music was good. Although Ledward was 
strongly built his step was light, and Evelyn gave 
herself to the rhythm of the swinging tune. She 
need not measure distance and avoid collision. To 
do so was Harry's business, and he knew his part. 
Evelyn thought it important. Harry’s rules were 
her rules, and if she agreed, he would carry her 
soberly along the safe, beaten track. 

For all that, she was vaguely disturbed. Not 
long since she had dreamed about plunging into the 
wilds with Kit. Kit had a strange, elfin charm the 
other had not. He indulged his rather fantastic 
imagination and he had fired hers. She wanted to 
follow him and share his romantic adventures, but 
she was afraid. 

With something of an effort she banished her 
moody thoughts. She knew Ledward saw the jewel 
shine on her white skin and she felt his grasp get 
firm, but she did not get the thrill she got when Kit 
told her she was beautiful. The beauty Kit saw was 
not the beauty that moved Ledward, and she knew 
it was not really hers. Yet she had loved Kit for 
his generous trust. 

When they swung at a turn, Ledward held her 
tight and the jewel touched his coat. 

“You dear!” he said softly, but his voice was 
calm and somehow confident. 

Soon afterwards the music stopped and he steered 
her to a bench. 

“The next dance is mine; but perhaps you are 
tired ?” 




250 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


"Since you were at Glasgow and drove across 
the moors, I doubt if you are very fresh," said 
Evelyn. 

"In the morning I must be at Sheffield. All the 
same, if you were my partner I'd dance until day¬ 
break." 

"Then you start to-night?" 

"In an hour," said Ledward. "Since you must 
dance with others, I’m willing to take the road." 

"To get the Sheffield train you must cross the 
moors again. Then you must wait for some time 
at the bleak junction. Don’t you feel you’re rash?” 

"Not at all,” said Ledward, smiling. "I expect 
you know I am cautious, but when I started from 
Glasgow I didn’t bother about the obstacles. All 
I thought about was the dance I hoped to get.” 

"Then you must take the next. The band has 
changed the music. Let’s get up.” 

The violins began, and Ledward gave Evelyn his 
arm, but he did not take all the dance. When they 
swung past a door he swept her from the gliding 
crowd and into the quiet hall. Then he took her in 
his arms and kissed her. 

"You darling!” he said. "When will you marry 
me?” 

Evelyn firmly pushed him back. Her heart beat 
and her color came and went. To face the crisis 
was harder than she had thought. 

"You mustn’t," she said. "You know I’m going 
to marry Kit!’’ 

Ledward smiled and indicated a bench by the 
fireplace. Nobody was about, and he leaned against 
the Jacobean carving a yard or two off. 


LEDWARD'S PRESENT 


251 


“Was there not a stipulation? Kit must make 
good? From a practical point of view, he will not 
do so. Besides, one cannot marry a will-o'-the-wisp. 
Kit is something like that." 

“At all events. Kit is luminous,” Evelyn rejoined. 
“He shines in dreary places, and one likes to follow 
the light.” 

“Ah,” said Ledward, “I'm a sober fellow and 
I have got an awkward antagonist. Kit is fantastic 
and elusive; but your charm is, you are flesh and 
blood. You cannot go where Kit goes; he'd lead 
you into a bog. We are sober people and we need 
much Kit thinks of no account; for example, money, 
proper food, fashionable clothes, and houses like 
our host's-■” 

He indicated the spacious, panelled’ hall, and 
Evelyn heard the violins and the beat of dancing 
feet. She knew Harry's argument was sound, but 
her eyes sparkled. 

“My ambition's not altogether mean. And if I 
do like pretty clothes and beautiful houses, I could 
go without.” 

“You're a darling!” Ledward declared. “For 
all that, we live in a modern, materialistic world, and 
Kit, so to speak, does not.” 

“There's another thing,” Evelyn resumed. “Your 
present is beautiful, but when you sent it you 

thought you would force me- Kit would not 

have used your plan.” 

“It’s possible. Perhaps I was shabby; but when 
I weighed all I risked, my pluck vanished. I 
thought, if you were very kind, you might make a 



252 


CARSON OF; RED RIVER 


sign-Well, you wear my gift. Will you marry 

me, Evelyn ?” 

“At the beginning you inquired when I would 
marry you, and now you're modest I like you 
better,” Evelyn rejoined. “I don't know, Harry. 
If you urge me, I must refuse-” 

She stopped, for a young man crossed the floor. 

“Sorry I didn't find you,” he said in an apologetic 
voice. “The band has played the best half of our 
dance.” 

“Then we mustn't miss the other half,” Evelyn 
replied, and giving Ledward a smile, went off. 




CHAPTER XXVI 


THE BREAKING STRAIN 

T HE electric light at the forge test-house 
sparkled on polished metal and touched the 
group by a big machine. Two were dark-skinned 
foreign navy officers; another was consul for the 
foreign government. Jasper Carson talked to an 
English naval architect and a steel inspector; Led- 
ward waited by the clerk’s table, on which were 
printed forms and measuring tools. In the back¬ 
ground a workman turned a wheel. 

A weight travelled slowly along a shining beam. 
The machine’s jaws moved apart and a small bar 
they gripped got longer; one saw the tough steel 
stretch. By and by the machine clanged and the 
bar broke. Jasper pointed to a scale, and taking 
out the broken pieces, gave them to the clerk. 

“Perhaps you would like to check the measure¬ 
ments and calculations, gentlemen. We reckon by 
decimals,” he said. 

The steel inspector and the naval architect went 
to the table. Jasper gave the party cigars and 
Ledward lighted a cigarette. The forge w r as a model 
forge, and Jasper knew the importance of clever 
advertisement. He liked to convoy shipbuilders and 
253 





254 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


foreign admiralty officers about his works. They 
saw all he thought they ought to see, but as a rule 
he fixed their visits for the evening. Jasper was a 
first-class showman, and after dark operations at the 
forge were spectacular. 

“Well? I hope the tests are satisfactory,” he 
said when the clerk gave the others the printed 
forms. 

“Moi, je voics en felicite. C’est une merveille!” a 
dark-skinned gentleman replied in awkward French. 

Jasper bowed. “You are polite, Almirante; but 
I think the steel is pretty good. Our own stuff, 
from the beginning!” 

“The stuff is first-class,” the English inspector 
agreed. “In fact, for the high tensile strength the 
elongation is rather remarkable. The usual plan, 
however, is perhaps to buy the raw material from 
the large steelworks.” 

“We do buy some soft-steel blooms, but where 
high tension is required we cast the ingots. Al¬ 
though it's possible one or two makers could supply 
us cheaper, our plan gives us exactly the stuff we 
want.” 

“Yours is a rather bold claim,” said the naval 
architect 

“Oh, well, since I talk to experts, for the most 
part we get what we try for, but sometimes I admit 
we are baffled.” 

“You are baffled?” said a foreign gentleman. 
“Have you not the mechanical rule and the chemical 
formula ?” 

Jasper smiled. “Scientific rules are useful, but 
steel-making is not altogether a mechanical process. 


THE BREAKING STRAIN 


255 


Something depends on the workman’s inherited, and 
perhaps instinctive, skill. There’s the weak link, 
because human nature is not stable. Man goes by 
sight and touch, and, so far as he is mechanical, a 
small defect puts the machine out of gear. I expect 
bad cooking accounts for some bad steel.” 

“I’ve, known bad brewing accountable,” remarked 
the inspector. 

“We use some precautions,” said Jasper dryly, 
and addressed the foreigners. “The rules and 
formulae help, but one is fronted by an incalculable 
factor. Sometimes it’s human weakness; sometimes 
it’s the contrary chance, that is as yet determined 
by rules we do not know. When one gets old, one 
finds out that man’s knowledge is limited.” 

“Es verdad. Ya la creo!” said the dark-skinned 
admiral. “Monsieur est philosopher 

“I’m a steel-forger, and I agreed to show you the 
process by which we make the goods you want,” 
said Jasper, smiling. “Lets go to the casting-pit.” 

They crossed a big open-sided shed and climbed 
to an iron platform surrounding a circular pit. The 
evening was cold and a boisterous wind blew about 
the forge and scattered clouds of iron scale. Naked 
lights in long rows flickered and slanted; dazzling 
reflections leaped from furnace doors, and a trail 
of radiance marked the passage of a white-hot 
bloom. When the noisy truck vanished all by con¬ 
trast got indistinct but for the sparks that tossed 
about the crashing steam-hammers. 

Engines throbbed, heavy wheels rolled, and metal 
clanged on iron floors. In the smoke and turmoil 
shadowy workmen moved about. For a few 




256 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


moments Jasper leaned against the greasy rails and 
his glance searched the forge, but Ledward knew he 
listened. The machines were like an orchestra, and 
a jarring note would indicate that an instrument was 
out of tune. Jasper knew the pitch of all; the cold- 
saws' thin treble, the roll-trains' measured rumble, 
and hammers' thunderous bass. 

The platform was a semi-circle and on each side 
was a large, pear-shaped iron vessel lined by fireclay. 
The vessels were pivoted near the middle, and 
turned up and down. Above each was a hole in the 
roof. Underneath, four or five yards below the 
platform, a row of hollow iron molds, about three 
feet high, went round the pit. In the gloom work¬ 
men waited. 

“For soft steel we use the open-hearth, but for 
stuff like yours the Bessemer process has advan¬ 
tages,” said Jasper, turning to the pear-shaped 
vessels. “By comparison with a steelworks plant, 
our converters are small. Well, we start with the 
melted pig-iron, a special haematite mixture, and we 
burn up the sulphur, silicon, and so forth-” 

He signalled, and a man across the pit replied: 
“Mr. Marsden’s at the cupolas. All's ready, sir.” 

A bell rang, and a converter tilted until the party 
looked into its luminous red throat. Then the roof 
and floor and columns shone, and a ladle swung 
across the pit. One did not see the stuff it carried, 
but trembling illumination marked its track. The 
ladle turned up, and a cascade of liquid iron poured 
into the converter's mouth. Then it vanished and, 
but for the ghostly, phosphorescent glow about the 
converter, all was dark. The converter swung up, 



THE BREAKING STRAIN 


257 


until its muzzle was under the pierced roof, and the 
gloom was banished by a flood of intense, over¬ 
whelming light. 

A splendid pillar of flame leaped through the gap. 
One saw the flakes of scale on the iron floor and the 
scratches in the plates. Ledward noted the lines in 
Jasper's face and thought him preoccupied. Carson 
studied the tossing fire, and then touched Ledward. 

“I don’t know who is blowing, but the fellow 
seems clumsy. Go for Marsden; he’s at the 
cupolas.” 

Ledward nodded and went down the steps. His 
shortest line was along the platform, but by the con¬ 
verters the rail was cut and the smooth plates were 
touched by puzzling light and shadow. Harry did 
not want to risk a plunge to the pit. Crossing the 
floor, he found the manager by the upright furnaces 
where the pig-iron was melted. 

“Mr. Carson wants you. I think he’s not satis¬ 
fied about the converter man.” 

“Black’s a first-class blower,” Marsden replied. 
“I’ll come along.” 

When Ledward went off Carson resumed: 

“The air blown into the vessel is burning up the 
impurities. As the temperature rises they leave the 
iron and combine with the oxygen. Each gives the 
flame its characteristic tint, and the blower goes by 
time and color. If he did not stop at the proper 
moment, the iron would burn-” 

The flame lost its intense brightness and began to 
sink. Jasper pulled out his watch. 

“All now left is liquid iron, but since we want 



258 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


tough steel we must back some carbon and a quantity 
of manganese.” 

The converter tilted down and stopped. Its 
lowered mouth pointed obliquely across the platform 
to the long crowded shed. But for the white glow 
shimmering about the vessel, platform and pit were 
gloomy. A bell rang and the ladle swung across the 
gap. A fresh load poured from its brim and 
vanished in the converter. The empty ladle swung 
back, and that was all. 

Jasper frowned. The blow was not finished, and 
delay might spoil the steel. All did not go as 
smoothly as he demanded at the forge. Yet Marsden 
was works manager and Jasper must not meddle, 
unless he were forced. 

“You're losing heat,” said the inspector. “The 
fellow's very slow. By George! he's turning on the 
blast -” 

To turn on the blast and turn up the converter 
was the proper course, but the big vessel swung 
down for a few degrees and its mouth commanded 
the forge. White reflections played about the fire¬ 
clay and Jasper and the inspector knew the fluid 
metal seethed to the brim. If the full blast were 
turned on, the load would sweep the forge like an 
exploding shell. 

Jasper jumped for the blower's platform. The 
inspector was not the company's servant, but he 
knew the risk the party ran and he pushed the others 
behind an iron pillar. Jasper vanished in the dark, 
and the converter began to swing. It went up 
smoothly, and when the flame leaped out its muzzle 
pointed for the gap in the roof. 



THE BREAKING STRAIN 


259 


A shout pierced the throbbing roar, and a dark 
object reeled across the platform. A man's bent, 
black figure cut the dazzling background. He 
stretched out his arm, as if to seize the rail, but by 
the converter the rail was cut, and the man plunged 
into the pit. The inspector jumped for the steps 
and workmen ran across the floor. 

Led ward, returning with Marsden, saw Jasper 
fall, and when they reached the casting-pit he lay 
by an ingot mold. Overhead the converter throbbed 
and sparks came down in glittering showers. 
Jasper’s eyes were shut, and but for the blood about 
his mouth his face was colorless. 

“Is he dead?” Ledward asked hoarsely. 

Marsden felt for Jasper's heart, and then drew 
his hand along his slack body. He was cool and 
gentle, for a forge manager knows something about 
broken men. 

“I think not. To move him is risky, but we must 
get him out.” 

He turned and waved back the men. Four of 
the works ambulance pushed through the group. 
Marsden, kneeling by the ingot mold, gave some 
orders, and in a few moments Jasper was on the 
stretcher. They carried him to the office, Marsden 
telephoned, and soon afterwards a hospital am¬ 
bulance arrived. 

“Go back to the visitors and persuade them 
Carson is not much hurt,” Marsden said to Ledward. 
“Give them some wine, and when you get them 
off ask for me at the hospital.” 

As a rule Ledward’s nerve was good, but polite¬ 
ness cost him something, and he was relieved to see 




260 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


the party go. Then he went to the hospital and 
joined Marsden in the waiting-room. The night 
was cold, and Ledward shivered. The room was 
bleak and very clean, like a prison. 

“Have you seen the doctors?” he inquired. 

“They haven’t finished their examination. I 
expect the house surgeon will come down presently. 
The forge and the rolling mills are pretty good 
customers.” 

“Do you know why Carson fell?” 

“All I saw you saw. Something went wrong and 
he was in time to turn up the converter. Then per¬ 
haps he was dazzled by the flame; or perhaps the 
jump to the platform shook him. The floor plates 
are greasy-” 

Ledward nodded. “How do you explain the 
converter man’s slackness ? Had liquor something to 
do with it ?” 

“Not at all. Men who drink much don’t stop long 
at the forge. I expect you think us an extravagant, 
drunken lot. It’s your folks’ point of view.” 

Ledward looked up rather haughtily. Marsden 
was a clever works manager, but he was not culti¬ 
vated and was sometimes aggressive. 

“Our disputing about things like that will not 
help. I inquired-” 

“Oh, well, I’m anxious, and perhaps I was nasty. 
Then I’m a steelworker and I know the men; some 
went with me to a council school. Anyhow our 
blowers, head-rollers, and hammer-men are aristo¬ 
crats in a highly skilled trade, and Black is a grim 
teetotaller. If he got his way, back-street beerhouses 



THE BREAKING STRAIN 


261 


and your fashionable clubs would be shut. I 
imagine the man was ill, but I’m going to find out.” 

“You’re a queer lot,” said Led ward, and stopped, 
for the house surgeon came in. 

“Mr. Carson’s obvious injuries are a broken arm 
and a broken rib,” he said. “In themselves they 
are not dangerous, but for an old man the shock is 
severe. I must not be technical, and perhaps if I 

state we suspect some complications -In a day or 

two I may give you better news, but Mr. Carson 
must stay with us.” 

“I suppose we mustn’t recommend him to your 
particular care?” said Ledward. “However, if to 
modify your ordinary arrangements would help, the 
company would be glad-” 

The doctor smiled. “Mr. Carson is our bene¬ 
factor, but all our patients are entitled to the best 
service we can give. So far as your seeing him 
when he is able to see you and so forth goes, we will 
not stick to the usual rules.” 

He let them go, and when they were in the street 
Marsden said: “I’m wanted at the forge. Will you 
come back with me?” 

Ledward went, and for some time waited at the 
office. Then Marsden came in and gave him a 
cigarette. The works manager was short and lightly 
built, but his mouth was firm and his glance keen. 
Ledward knew him sternly efficient. 

“Until Carson is again about we must carry on,” 
he said. “His Canadian speculations are the London 
office’s business; I’m responsible for the forge. 
Well, in the North we’re blunt, and you begin to see 
how things are done. The company’s a limited 




262 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


company, but the directors don’t meddle; their 
part’s to approve. When you meet the gentlemen 
you’ll reply to inquiries politely and not bother them. 
You will see important customers and get the sort of 
orders we can profitably execute.” 

“The difficulty is, I don’t know the sort of 
orders——” 

“I’ll tell you,” said Marsden. “When fresh 
transactions are negotiated you will come to me.” 

Led ward looked at him rather hard. “You con¬ 
sider you are entitled to superintend ?” 

“I know my job; you don’t yet know yours. The 
office gang are useful clerks, that’s all. Then the 
forge is Carson’s main support. For you to cross 
me and let down the business would be risky.” 

“Oh, well,” said Ledward, “I want your help, 
and since I’m a beginner I must agree to your 
control. Have you inquired about the blower?” 

“Black was ill. He has been ill for three or four 
months, and owns he ought not to have taken the 
night shift. When he tried to turn up the con¬ 
verter he got faint and his hand slipped.” 

“But you don’t allow a sick man-” 

“Until Carson sent for me I did not imagine 
Black was sick, but he has done with the con¬ 
verter,” said Marsden grimly. “Well, you haven’t 
smoked your cigarette, and perhaps the story’s 
interesting. You have heard about our war-time 
extravagance, and all was not exaggeration; but 
it was the extravagance of folks who, for once, were 
not forced to pinch. On the whole, in the North 
we’re a parsimonious lot-” 

“Anyhow, Black is parsimonious, and his wife 




THE BREAKING STRAIN 


263 


had three hundred pounds. When houses can be 
got, houses are our favorite speculation, and Black 
joined a building club. He drew a lucky number 
and bought two cottages. He claims he has not lost 
a shift since he began at the forge, and I imagine 
he saved all the pay it was possible to save. Well, he 
built and mortgaged, and built again, until he owns 
one side of a new street. He had not, however, 
used the end plot, and the plot's important. 

“Labor and stern economy imply some strain, 
and Black is not young. He got tired and knew 
he soon must stop, but when he did stop he meant 
to build a corner shop and round off the block. He 
was not much short of the sum he needed, and al¬ 
though he was ill he carried on. Well, there's the 
story!" 

Ledward got up and threw his cigarette in the 
grate. 

“It looks as if the company and Carson must 
meet the bill; but I must call at the newspaper office. 
We don't want a disturbing paragraph printed. I'll 
see you in the morning." 



CHAPTER XXVII 


JASPER WAITS 

A SERVANT pushed Jasper's long chair across 
the terrace at Nether hall, and stopping at a 
sunny spot, went off. Across the lawn bare branches 
tossed, but the buds were breaking, and under the 
trees daffodils nodded in the wind. Larches, bright 
with fresh tassels, checkered the dark firs, and a 
thorn hedge was touched by shining green. A 
throbbing noise got fainter up the dale, and the car 
carried a famous surgeon to the train. 

The surgeon had visited Netherhall before, but 
only Jasper knew all he thought; one was frank 
with Jasper Carson. His face was thin and his 
body was slack, but he was something of a stoic, and 
when his glance rested on the group farther along 
the terrace his eyes twinkled. His relations knew 
where to leave him alone, and although he imagined 
they were curious they would wait. 

By and by a young woman carried some docu¬ 
ments from the house, put a camp stool by the chair, 
and pulled out a notebook. Jasper studied the docu¬ 
ments and dictated one or two letters. Then he 
said: “Give me your notebook and read Marsden’s 
letter. Don't read fast.” 


264 


JASPER WAITS 265 

The girl did so, and Jasper, using the pencil 
awkwardly, covered a page with clumsy curves and 
strokes. 

“Well?” he said and gave her the book. “Can 
you read the stuff?” 

“Oh yes! Your hand is firmer.” 

“That’s something. I like to feel I command my 
muscles. But perhaps you think you ought to humor 
a sick man ?” 

Miss Niven blushed. “Not at all, Mr. Carson. 
The characters are properly shaped; you do write 
better. Besides, I think I’d be afraid to cheat you.” 

“My despotic days are gone. Authority deserts 
—but after all I’m not yet dying, and I will not want 
you for some time. Type the letters and then take 
a walk; but if you’d sooner rest, I sent some 
chocolates and a novel by an author you admire to 
your room. You can go.” 

Miss Niven went. At the beginning Jasper had 
daunted her; now she thought she knew him she 
was his willing servant. Although his humor was 
grim and freakish, he was kind. When she crossed 
the terrace Jasper addressed the group on the steps. 

“My business is transacted; the levee may begin,” 
he said. “Levee, however, is perhaps not the proper 
word, because I don’t know when I shall get up.” 

“Then Sir Antony was not encouraging?” said 
Mrs. Carson in a sympathetic voice. 

Jasper gave her a smile. Since his doctors pre¬ 
scribed quiet and bracing air, he had gone to Nether- 
hall. Alan had urged it, and although he did not 
think Mrs. Carson was disturbed about him, she was 


266 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


a polite hostess. She knew his importance, and he 
was her nephew’s employer. 

“I have no particular grounds to be encouraged, 
or daunted. One tries to be philosophical.” 

“But the fellow told you something ” said Alan. 

“Sir Antony took some wine and knitted his 
brows. Since his remarks are expensive, perhaps 
he felt he ought not to be extravagant. In the 
meantime, mine are not, and I talked. Sir Antony 
made some notes; I think that was all. It’s possible 
he gave my nurse his confidence, but I doubt.” 

“We are sorry,” said Mrs. Carson, and motioned 
her husband to be quiet. 

Jasper evidently did not want to talk about the 
doctor’s visit, and she knew his man’s reserve. 

“Do you think you ought to indulge your 
secretary?” she inquired after a few moments. 
“Since Miss Niven may feel the contrast afterwards, 
perhaps it really is not kind.” 

“Miss Niven is not my secretary. She’s a 
stenographer I engaged for a time from a type¬ 
writing office. The time will soon be up, but I may 
be forced to ask if she will remain.” 

“I expect she’ll agree! Her duties are light and 
the pay is generous.” 

Jasper smiled. Mrs. Carson liked to rule, but at 
Netherhall she was entitled to do so, and where she 
meddled his habit was to banter her. 

“I rather think Miss Niven’s pay helps to support 
two poor but remarkably respectable old people; but 
I don’t know if her duties are very light. She 
types my letters, reads the newspapers for me, and 
sometimes selected passages from popular novels. 


JASPER WAITS 267 

Miss Niven’s muse is tragic, but her reading’s 
spirited. Then she teaches me shorthand.” 

“Is shorthand useful to you?” Mrs. Haigh 
inquired. 

“So far, I admit it is not, because I cannot after¬ 
wards read the script, and Miss Niven is puzzled; 
but she states I make some progress. Then, when 
your nervous control is weak, to economize muscular 
effort helps, and shorthand’s advantage is that it is 
short. But I think I tried to justify my indulging 
my stenographer. You see, she’s a capable young 
woman and sternly conscientious. I imagine her 
only weaknesses are chocolate and sentimental 
novels, and to supply the articles is not a great ex¬ 
travagance.” 

For a moment or two the others said nothing, 
but Jasper knew them interested, and their specula¬ 
tions excited his amusement. Perhaps they thought 
he pondered marrying his stenographer. Some¬ 
times an infirm old man did marry a useful servant. 

“Harry wants to see you, and you must not stay 
out long. The wind is cold,” said Mrs. Carson. 

The party went down the steps, and Ledward, 
carrying some papers, advanced. 

“Marsden thought you would like to know all we 
are doing, and we made some notes about the fresh 
orders on which we have started at the forge. We 
have marked the prices and the manufacturing 
costs.” 

Jasper took the papers and was quiet for some 
minutes. Then he nodded. 

“It looks as if I’m not indispensable! When do 
you go back?” 


268 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


"I ought to get the afternoon train. Simmonds 
calls me to London; he's bothered about the recent 
Canadian contract, and in the morning he'll give 
me particulars. If he lets me go soon, I might be 
back to report before you go to bed to-morrow." 

“You earn your pay," said Jasper. “Do you 
and Marsden agree?" 

“On the whole-" said Ledward, and stopped. 

“Marsden jars? Well, he's my forge manager. 
A rough dog, but stanch. Since you have got to 
work with him, you must use some tact." 

For a time they talked about the forge, and Led¬ 
ward heard the others in a path behind a beech 
hedge. He thought somebody had arrived, but the 
dead leaves still clung to the branches and he did not 
know who it was. By and by he said: “The Savile 
Tube Company are issuing new shares. The pros¬ 
pectus is attractive, and Marsden states the tubes are 
first-class. What would you think about a specula¬ 
tion, sir?" 

Jasper took the prospectus. “They don't ex¬ 
aggerate much; their stuff is good. The ordinary 
shares ought to be a sound investment; but I didn't 
know you speculated. Sometimes when a young 
man wants money it is because he thinks about 
marriage. You, however, declared you did not." 

Ledward hesitated. Jasper had met him and 
Evelyn at Hadriansford, and Kit was Evelyn's 
lover. Moreover, he was Jasper's nephew, but Led¬ 
ward had not thought the old fellow annoyed. 

“Until recently, for me to think about marrying 
would have been ridiculous," he said. “Now, 



JASPER WAITS 269 

perhaps, I would not be very rash. Your generosity 
would justify the plunge.” 

“1 wonder,” Jasper remarked, and gave Led ward 
a baffling smile. “I doubt if I am generous, Harry; 
I try to be just. Well, if the lady were not ex¬ 
travagant, you could support a wife.” 

The others crossed the grass, and Ledward 
wondered whether Jasper had noted Evelyn's 
arrival. His remark about his being just was 
puzzling and somehow ominous. Ledward felt he 
had got a hint, but he did not see where the other 
led. By and by Jasper let him go, and Alan Carson 
came up the steps. 

“You were engaged with Harry, and I waited,” 
he said. “We hoped Sir Antony's report might be 
encouraging, but you did not tell us much, and I 
thought you were disappointed. Did he not give 
you some notion about when you might get up ?” 

“He doesn't know," Jasper replied in a quiet 
voice. 

Alan’s look was disturbed, and Jasper knew his 
emotion sincere. 

“After all,” he resumed, “I'm getting old, and 
since, for the most part, I've gone where I wanted 
to go, when I’m forced to stop I mustn't grumble.” 

“Your pluck's good,” said Alan. “But you made 
the forge famous, and to give up control and perhaps 
see others let down the business would hurt.” 

“For a time, at all events, I expect to carry on. 
I can trust Marsden, and Harry's useful. He thinks 
about getting married. Perhaps you know ?” 

Alan frowned. “Since I can't meddle, I'm not 
interested. Harry's my wife's relation and your 


270 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


secretary; but I don't like the fellow. Why don't 
you send for Kit? He’s your man.” 

“Kit is my Canadian competitors’ man.” 

“If I didn’t know your cleverness, I’d think you 
a fool!” Alan rejoined. “You don’t, after all, 
believe Kit sold the shipyard’s plans and joined the 
construction company in order to spite you?” 

“I do not. I think I’m logical.” 

“Then you ought to' bring the boy back and give 
him a fresh chance. He’s an engineer and your 
nephew. In some respects he’s strangely like you.” 

“I know where to wait,” said Jasper in a meaning 
voice. 

“But I don’t see-” 

“Oh, well, for one thing, Kit has not yet tried 
his powers. He’s good stuff, but he’s raw, un¬ 
tempered stuff and hasn’t felt the fire and the 
hammer. At the Canadian bridge he’ll no doubt be 
forced to take some knocks. Well, I’d sooner you 
didn’t talk about it to your wife, and I’m tired. You 
might call my man.” 

Alan admitted Jasper’s argument was plausible, 
but he knew his brother, and fancied he had not told 
him all. He went to’ look for the servant, and they 
wheeled Jasper to the house. 

Some time afterwards Led ward joined Mrs. 
Haigh, and she stopped at a bench in a quiet sunny 
spot. 

“Have you heard the doctor’s opinion?” she 
inquired. 

“I have not. Jasper does not talk about his illness. 
All the same, he does not seem to get much better.” 

“His illness is awkward for you, and no doubt 



JASPER WAITS 271 

implies extra labor and responsibility. In fact, one 
feels you bear some strain. You’re preoccupied and 
you get thin.” 

“I don’t know if it’s a drawback,” said Ledward, 
smiling, and pondered for a few moments. He 
thought he saw where Mrs. Haigh led, and he had 
waited for a sign. 

“My load is rather heavy,” he resumed. “Jasper 
has good servants, but each was required to stick to 
his particular job, and the control was single. 
Jasper alone knew the plans, and although the com¬ 
pany’s a limited company, he, so to speak, held the 
reins. Now he’s forced to let go, the consequences 
are embarrassing. Since he’s remarkably keen, I 
expect he knew he ought to have an understudy. 
We of course thought Kit the man-” 

“Ah,” said Mrs. Haigh, “Kit is rather dull and 
he’s obstinate. When he indicated that he did not 
want the part his uncle was perhaps entitled to be 
offended.” 

“At all events, he offered me the part, and I saw 
no reason to refuse. The trouble is, I’m not an 
engineer, but I begin to understand the rather com¬ 
plicated business, and by and by I hope some 
difficulties will vanish. In the meantime, I think 
my employer’s satisfied.” 

“If he does not get better, you will have control. 
In fact, it may be yours for good,” Mrs. Haigh 
remarked in a thoughtful voice. 

Ledward felt she gave him his cue, and he 
resolved to play up. 

“It is possible. At all events, Jasper has agreed 
that so long as I am content the post I now have 



272 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


is mine. The important thing is, it enables me to 
support a wife. Well, I expect you know I not 
long since asked Evelyn to marry me?” 

“She refused.” 

“That is so,” said Ledward. “All the same, I 
thought she hesitated, and her refusal was not very 
firm. Well, I felt I must not urge her. Kit's my 
friend; he’s a generous, attractive fellow. The 
trouble is, he’s young and impulsive. Somehow I 
think Canada will claim him, and he will not come 
back. Then Jasper is willing for him to stay. The 
ground is awkward, but after all, Kit to some extent 
did let the old fellow down.” 

Mrs. Haigh saw his cleverness, but his argument 
was logical. In fact, she herself had argued like 
that. 

“One must not be shabby, and Evelyn is stanch,” 
she said. “She did not altogether engage to marry 
Kit, but we agreed, if he made good progress in 
Canada, we would talk about it again. My stipula¬ 
tion was, he must for twelve months use his best 
efforts and not bother Evelyn. Well, the twelve 
months are not gone.” 

“Do you imply that when the time is gone I 
might try again?” 

“Ah!” said Mrs. Haigh, “my duty is rather hard. 
Kit trusts me, and he has some charming qualities, 
but I must think for my daughter. If you can 
persuade Evelyn, I will not refuse. But I cannot 
cheat Kit, and you must wait. When he started it 
was summer, and summer will not be long.” 

She got up, but she signed Ledward to stay and 
he gathered she would sooner the others did not 


273 


JASPER WAITS 

know they had engaged in confidential talk. On the 
whole, Led ward was satisfied. When he again urged 
Evelyn he thought he could reckon on her mother's 
support. Moreover, he imagined Evelyn would 
weigh the argument by which he had moved Mrs. 
Haigh. He was now Jasper's favorite, and Kit was 
done with. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


KIT GOES AHEAD 

7^1" ELTING snow dripped from the bridge- 
Xv A works roof and the snow in the street was 
gray and honeycombed. The trees along the side¬ 
walk had shaken off their load, and a sunbeam 
touched the branches and sooty walls. Kit by the 
drawing office window saw the beam get brighter, 
and he frowned. 

Winter was not gone. In Canada the cold holds 
on stubbornly, but spring was not far off, and no¬ 
body had yet suggested his going back to the bridge. 
At the office his work, for the most part, was 
mechanical; he enlarged plans and marked templates 
for the machine shops. He felt he could not use 
his talents, and he got no chance to push ahead. 
Moreover, although he was in the evenings allowed 
to* play dance tunes at the boarding-house, his land¬ 
lady declared she would not stand for his practicing 
high-brow music. By and by a clerk crossed the 
floor. 

“Looks as if you were in for it! The boss wants 
you!” 

Kit s heart beat. To be called to the office was 
ominous, but he believed the plans he had recently 
274 


KIT GOES AHEAD 


275 


sent to the workshops were accurate. Besides, he 
had had enough at the bridge-works, and to be fired 
would not much bother him. He pushed back the 
door and saw Wheeler. Wheeler was burly and as 
a rule his look was hard, but sometimes when he 
talked to Kit his eyes twinkled. His hands were in 
his pockets and he chewed a cigar. Another gentle¬ 
man behind a big desk looked up. 

“You were a shipyard draftsman, Carson. You 
know something about working steel plates?” 

Kit agreed and the manager gave him some plans. 

“Railroad tanks. They’re large; the water’s 
alkaline and chemicals are used to precipitate the 
salts. What do you think about the plating?” 

“If Carson states all he thinks, I expect the 
designer will get a jolt,” Wheeler remarked. 

Kit wondered whether Wheeler’s joke carried 
a hint, but he did not know and he studied the plans. 

“The construction’s cheap,” he said. “I suppose 
the pressure’s light?” 

“The weight of the enclosed water; that’s all.” 

“Then, if the caulking’s really good, perhaps the 
tanks ought not to leak.” 

Wheeler laughed. “They do leak! They’re 
trickling right across the alkali belt, and to make 
them tight will cost the opposition high. You see, 
they’re not our tanks.” 

“The company has got an order for a fresh lot 
along the new line,” said the manager. “The rail¬ 
road, however, will not pay us a better price, and 
the construction must be cheap. The problem is to 
carry a heavy load on thin material. If the job 
were yours, how’d you get about it?” 


276 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


Kit saw they tried him out; in fact, he had before 
imagined he was studied. He knew Western 
engineers thought English methods out-of-date, but 
he was moved by reckless humor and he had known 
the bold line pay. 

“You are experts and I ought to be modest,” he 
replied. “However, to make a thin joint tight you 
must have good caulking, and good caulking implies 
long practice and inherited skill. To begin with, 
I'd send for an English boiler gang. If you got me 
men from Lancashire, Fd engage to make the 
landings tight.” 

“Carson's young, but he certainly has some sand,” 
Wheeler remarked, and the manager looked at Kit 
rather hard. 

“Your plan won’t go. We use Canadian work¬ 
men.” 

“Then, I expect you’ll use Canadian material, and 
perhaps your rolling mills can supply the plates I 
want. At the shipyard our specialty was light con¬ 
struction for fast small steamers, and we were 
forced to study problems like yours—-” 

He drew two or three sketch plans and elevations, 
and resumed: “There’s my notion. The measure¬ 
ments, of course, are not accurate.” 

“We’ll send for you again,” said the manager, and 
when Kit went off gave Wheeler the drawings. 

“I believe the boy has got it!” 

“Looks like that,” Wheeler agreed with a chuckle. 
“The proposition beat our gang.” 

“But how do you account for a raw lad’s-?” 

“The boy was a shipbuilder and I figured on the 
Jasper Carson touch. We take a kid from a farm 




KIT GOES AHEAD 


277 


and send him to the machine shops; another from 
a backwoods store goes to an engineering college. 
In the Old Country they have folks whose grand¬ 
fathers handled machine tools. Carson belongs to a 
lot like that; I guess you can hand him the job.” 

After a time they sent for Kit and the manager 
said: “We’ll try out your plan and you can start 
on your calculations. As soon as the plates are 
rolled, we’ll give you a picked gang and you’ll begin 
the first tank on the division west of Harper’s. If 
your tank is tight, you can build the lot and I reckon 
we can satisfy you about your pay. In the mean¬ 
time, we’ll raise you fifty per cent.” 

“If the tank is not tight, you can look for another 
job,” Wheeler added. 

“Thank you,” said Kit. “The test is pretty stern, 
but I admit it’s logical. I must try to make good.” 

They let him go and when he returned to his 
drawing board he thrilled triumphantly. If his 
tanks carried their load, promotion would be swift 
and for a shipbuilder to put up the tanks was not 
really hard. He pictured the letter he would write 
to Evelyn, but when after supper he went to his 
room at the boarding-house he hesitated and lighted 
his pipe. To boast was risky; he had boasted at the 
bridge. The tanks were not yet built, and one must 
reckon on obstacles. Sometimes thin steel got brittle 
around the rivet holes; sometimes the rivets did not 
properly pull up the seam. Workmen were careless, 
and so forth. 

Moreover, Kit began to feel he was not really 
keen to write. He had not for some time received 
a letter from Evelyn, and the last was cold and 


278 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


vaguely resentful. Perhaps she had reason to 1 be 
disappointed and Kit was sorry, but her grumbling 
jarred. Anyhow, the thrill was gone. At length, 
he was going ahead, but his start was late and the 
proper time to celebrate his triumph was when he 
arrived. The strange thing was, on the whole he 
was resigned to wait. 

Kit put up his writing pad and got his violin. 
For half an hour he played merry tunes in the 
dining-room; and then he and another went up 
town for a game of pool. 

A week or two afterwards a freight train stopped 
by a creek some distance from the bridge, and Kit 
and a number of workmen got down from the 
caboose. A bluff sheltered the spot, and Kit was 
glad to get behind the trees, for the wind was keen. 
On the Western plains the snow is thin, and where 
the rises faced south the grass was dry and bleached. 
Winter was going but was not altogether gone, and 
under the boggy surface the soil was frozen. Thick 
clouds floated about the dreary sky and the light got 
faint. A flat car carried a wooden house, framed in 
sections, and Kit called his men. 

“We’ll put up the shack, boys, and fix the stove. 
If you want supper and a bed, you have got to 
hustle.” 

The house went up and was bolted fast in the 
dark, although to level the ground was ominously 
hard. The bunks were fixed and soon the stove 
snapped cheerfully, and one smelt coffee, frying 
pork, and the resin in the boards. At supper Kit’s 
appetite was good. At length he had got independ¬ 
ent command and his hopes were high. He liked 


KIT GOES AHEAD 


279 


the gang; the muscular, white-skinned fellows were 
from city workshops and he thought he knew their 
type. He had stipulated for a first-class cook, and if 
good food would buy the men’s support, he must 
risk the company’s grumbling about the bill. Kit 
thought all were content and he went happily to bed. 

In the morning he got to work and soon knew 
he had not an easy task. A solid foundation was 
needed to carry the big tank, but when he broke the 
surface the soil was like iron; storms of rain and 
sleet drove the men to shelter and at night the 
trampled slush froze. To handle the cold, sharp- 
edged steel was awkward, and Kit wondered 
whether he had not started a month too soon. All 
the same, speed was important and he pushed 
stubbornly ahead. The gang was willing and the 
tank began to grow. 

One Saturday evening Kit went to the bridge. 
The big girders now spanned the river and a service 
locomotive pushed across the rails and ballast for 
the approach track. Austin had borne the winter 
better than Kit had expected. His skin was 
darkened by frost and the reflection from the snow, 
his step was firm and his look was tranquil. Kit 
knew him modestly proud, and when he studied 
the bridge and pictured the effort it had cost he 
thought Bob had some cause for satisfaction. 

On the whole, Kit thought his going to the work¬ 
shops was justified. Bob had seized his opportunity 
and, no doubt, would get his reward; moreover, in 
one sense, to help his friend had not cost Kit much. 
The trouble was, Evelyn was disappointed and per¬ 
haps thought him slack. She did not know his 


280 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


object for giving up his post, and, when he pondered 
it, he saw his not enlightening her was significant. 
He had not expected Evelyn to see he was forced to 
think for Bob, although Alison had done so and 
approved his resolve. Well, he was not going to 
bother about it. Evelyn was ambitious for him, and 
when the tank was finished she would know he had 
conquered. 

The Sunday was bleak, the dinner Jock gave them 
Was something of a feast, and in the afternoon they 
sat by the stove and talked. After a time Austin 
said: “Carrie was delighted to know the bosses sent 
you to put up the tanks. I’m not at all jealous, Kit, 
but my wife’s your admirer. You attract women of 
the best sort. Carrie, for example, is fastidious and 
cleverer than I am, but she has certainly taken a 
shine to you.” 

Kit knew Bob, in some respects, was not clever; 
he did not suspect that Kit and Mrs. Austin had 
plotted for him to remain at the bridge. 

“Oh, well,” he said with a smile, “I really think 
my charm’s unconscious.” 

“Sometimes a charm like that is embarrassing,” 
Austin remarked. “Carrie, however, wants to con¬ 
gratulate you, and if you can stay for a week-end 
with us, I’d be very glad. When can you fix it ?” 

Kit said he could not yet get off, and Austin 
resumed: “Then, since Carrie’s coming to see the 
bridge we’ll run out to the tank. In fact, you may 
have a surprise party, because I expect Alison, 
Florence Grey, and Harries will join us. They 
haven’t yet been to the bridge and all want to see 
you.” 


KIT GOES AHEAD 281 

“That’s fine! I fancy my cook will see me out. 
All the same, I’d sooner you gave me a date.” 

“Something depends on the weather, but it must 
be soon. When your letter arrived, Alison was at 
our house and she was interested. She wants to go 
with us and she may not be at Fairmead long.” 

“Then, you think Miss Forsyth isn’t satisfied 
at the creamery?” said Kit in a disturbed voice. 

“Not at all. They’re putting up fresh plant and 
a larger building, and she reckons on getting better 
pay, but she’s bothered about her relations in Eng¬ 
land. An aunt at a lone homestead is sick and may 
want her. If she’s called, I guess she’ll go.” 

Kit knocked out his pipe and for a few moments 
was quiet. He admitted he was not reasonable, but 
he hated to think about Alison’s going. Moreover, 
he knew her ambitious, and now she made progress 
for her to go was hard. Yet when he recaptured 
her portrait of the kind dalesfolk at lonely Whinn- 
yates, he knew she would not hesitate. Well, he 
was not entitled to grumble and Bob must not think 
him disturbed. 

“To quit will be something of a knock for Alison, 
but she’s fine stuff,” he said. 

“Carrie fell for her at the Winnipeg station 
waiting-room,” Austin resumed. “Perhaps because 
we were happy the picture sticks; the pillars, the 
marble flags and the shabby crowd; you on your 
battered gripsack, and Alison on the bench. She 
was tired and lonesome; Carrie reckoned she was 
near crying, but when we stopped she smiled. That 
was all; the smile got my wife. Carrie declared she 
was clean sand, the sort to stay with a hard job and 


282 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


help another. ... I reckon she helped you. At 
Fairmead she talked about you and when we met up 
at the bridge I own I put Wheeler on your track. 
Well, I expect you’d have made good, anyhow; but 
Alison is accountable for your getting a show.” 

Kit mused rather unhappily. He knew he did 
owe Alison much, but he did not altogether see the 
object of Austin’s remarks. Bob was not a senti¬ 
mentalist. 

“As soon, as possible you must fix a date for 
your visit,” he said. “If your party cannot get 
across, I’ll start for Fairmead.” 

They began to talk about something else, and in 
the evening Kit went back to the tank. 

A week afterwards, Kit one afternoon waited by 
the top of the grade behind the poplar bluff. The 
spot commanded two or three miles of the undulat¬ 
ing line and a black smoke plume streaked a rise. A 
bitter north wind swept the plain and the dry white 
grass rippled like the sea, but the soil was hard like 
concrete. It looked as if arctic winter had returned 
and Kit thought the landscape’s distinctness omi¬ 
nous. 

Dark clouds rolled up from the northern horizon; 
in the south, pale sunshine touched the grass, and 
bluffs and clumps of brush were sharply clear. In 
the distance a ravine pierced broken ground, and the 
small trees and ragged bank cut the gray slope in 
sharp black silhouette. Kit’s visitors, however, 
would arrive and go by train, and he watched the 
locomotive steam up the grade. 

The flat rail cars stopped by the tank, and Austin 
helped Florence Grey from the locomotive cab. She 


KIT GOES AHEAD 283 

gave Kit her hand, rather as if she were forced, and 
began to talk. 

“Hold the train, Bob, until we collect all the gang. 
Ted went for Carrie and Alison, and I expect they're 
on board the caboose. I had not been on a loco, Kit, 
and Bob put me in the cab, but the engineer wouldn't 
stand for the lot and Alison has a smart new coat. 
Come on and help her down!” 

They went along the track, but when they got to 
the caboose Harries jumped off and a brakesman 
shut the door. 

“Where's Carrie ?” Florence inquired, and 
Harries gave her a puzzled look. 

“I sure don't know! I thought Mrs. Austin and 
Alison went with you. They certainly were not at 
the smith’s shop, and when the train was starting I 
jumped on board.” 

“Oh, shucks! Didn't you look in the office?” 

“Why'd I look in the office? You said I’d get 
them at the smithy,” Harries rejoined. 

“You’re not very bright, Ted. Alison’s clothes 
are new. Why did you think I reckoned she was at 
the smoky forge?” 

“Search me!” said Harries. “You did think she 
was there. I don't know much about women’s 
clothes, but you’ve got some grease on yours.” 

“Men are like that!” Florence remarked scorn¬ 
fully. “However, Bob’s waiting, and I expect the 
engineer's getting mad.” 

They started for the front of the train and 
Harries gave Kit a smile. Kit knew Florence’s 
habit was to dispute with her lover, but he was 
annoyed, for he had wanted to see Alison. When 


284 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


they reached the locomotive, the engineer looked out 
from the cab. 

"Two of your party short-shipped? Well, maybe 
they’ll make it on the gravel train. If the pile’s not 
frozen she ought to come along by and by. I reckon 
she’ll go back before us, but the gang will be on 
board and you better wait. If I see your flag I’ll 
pick you up. So long!” 

He shut the window and the cars rolled ahead. 
Kit and Austin studied the skeleton tank, and then 
the party went to his shack. Not long afterwards 
the gravel train steamed by. 

Kit’s disappointment was keen. Alison had not 
arrived and all was flat. Sometimes Florence 
bantered him and he played up. Austin talked and 
Harries was naively humorous, but Kit could not 
banish his moodiness. Alison was going to England 
and he might not see her before she went. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


THE STORM 

A FTER a time Kit heard a locomotive whistle 
and he went to the door. The wind was very 
cold and the sky was dark. Thick smoke blew about 
the wood; the gravel train was stopping for some 
damaged material Kit wanted to send back. 

“If Miss Grey and you don’t mind, Bob, I’ll go to 
the bridge,” he said. “Mrs. Austin may find waiting 
dull and I want to see Alison, but I’d like you to 
stay. For one thing, the cook has planned a supper 
he declares they couldn’t beat at a Winnipeg hotel.” 

“We mean to stay,” Austin agreed. “Florence 
and Ted have got a holiday, and when I do get ofi: 
the bridge I’m not keen about rushing back.” 

“It’s going to storm, Bob. We ought to start,” 
Miss Grey remarked. 

“You can’t start,” Austin rejoined. “The loading 
gang have got the caboose and the engineer won’t 
carry the lot in his cab. Besides, she’s a greasy old 
service loco, and you must think about your clothes.” 

Miss Grey gave him a keen glance. “You’re 
bluffing, Bob! Kit has framed it up for you to 
keep me.” 

“I want to stay; Ted wants to stay, and if you 
285 


286 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


go we’ll be lonesome,” said Austin humorously. “Be 
a sport and see us out!” 

“Florence is a sport, but she’s blamed obstinate,” 
Harries remarked. 

Miss Grey turned and faced her lover, and Kit 
stole away. Running behind the cars, he jumped 
on board the locomotive. 

“My stuff is on the car. Start her up.” 

The big engine snorted, the wheels began to 
roll, and Kit looking from the window saw Miss 
Grey push back Harries and run for the line. The 
noisy cars, however, were going fast, and Kit was 
satisfied to know she could not get on board. Fie 
was resolved to see Alison, and he imagined that 
when he did so Florence had meant to be about. 

When the train stopped at the bridge, thin snow 
had begun to fall and the light was going. Kit went 
to the office and Mrs. Austin got up languidly from 
a camp chair. By contrast with the biting frost, 
the small room was hot, and Mrs. Austin’s look was 
dully surprised. 

“Why Kit! Has Bob come back ?” 

“Where is Alison?” Kit inquired. 

Mrs. Austin looked about, as if she expected to 
see Alison. Then she turned to the door, and 
remarking the gloom outside, braced up. 

“She was here after the train went, but, now I 
think about it, perhaps she got another.” 

Kit said Alison had not arrived and saw Mrs. 
Austin was disturbed. 

“Then, I don’t know where she is. Somehow 
we were left behind, and when a man said he 
thought another train was going Alison went to 


THE STORM 


287 


inquire. I waited, but we started from Fairmead 
early and the office was hot. It looks as if I went to 
sleep. . . . But you must find out where Alison is.” 

“I’m going to try,” said Kit, rather sternly. “You 
must wait. Bob and the others will arrive before 
very long, and the cold is fierce.” 

A few minutes afterwards a workman informed 
him that a lady had gone along the track. Another 
stated that the dame had asked about the train and 
crossed the bridge. Kit went across and at the other 
end two men admitted they had told Alison a train 
was loading gravel at a pit along the line. 

Kit knew the spot was three miles off and he 
inquired: “Did the train leave the bridge long 
before the lady talked to you?” 

“About five minutes. As soon as he knew the 
rail cars were past the pit the engineer pulled out. 
We reckoned the dame ought to make it before the 
boys loaded up.” 

Kit nodded and set off as fast as possible along 
the track. The plain in front was dark, the savage 
wind buffeted him, and the snow got thick. Some¬ 
times he struck his foot against a tie; sometimes 
he plunged into the rough, frozen ballast, and he 
wondered whether he ought not to have gone back 
for two or three men and a trolley. To get the men 
and put the trolley on the rails would, however, 
occupy some time, and he did not think Alison was 
far off. When she found the gravel train was gone 
she would return to the bridge. 

For all that, Kit was anxious. As a rule, one did 
not get a blizzard in spring, but the wind got colder 
and his hands were numb. The snow was dry and 


288 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


its dryness implied that the thermometer went far 
below freezing-point. Then had Alison kept the 
track, he ought to have seen her from the window of 
the locomotive cab. 

His breath got short and his side began to hurt 
Stopping for a moment, he tried to shout, but he 
doubted if his hoarse voice carried fifty yards. The 
snow beat his face and all he saw was the tossing 
flakes. Lowering his head, he pushed on stubbornly 
although he began to wonder whether he and Alison 
could reach the bridge. She would be exhausted, 
and he himself had had enough. 

Not far ahead the track curved round broken 
grotmd and a short trestle carried the rails across a 
ravine. The carpenters who built the bridge had put 
up a small turf shack, and Kit resolved when he met 
Alison he would try to reach the spot. If they got 
there, he might stop the rail train. 

After a time he fancied something moved in the 
snow, and he shouted. He heard a faint cry, and 
plunging forward, collided with an indistinct white 
object. 

“Alison!” he gasped, and she clung to him. 

Kit put his arm round her. “Brace up! How 
far’s the ravine?” 

“I crossed the bridge not long since, but the 
camp’s the other way,” said Alison faintly. 

“We’re going to the carpenters’ shack. Come 
on!” said Kit. 

To advance was awkward. Alison was exhausted, 
Kit was tired, and one could hardly face the gale. 
For all that, unless they got to the shack, Kit knew 
they would freeze. Feeling for the rails with his 


THE STORM 


289 


boots, he kept the track, and by and by saw a white 
mound three or four yards in front. The door was 
not gone, and forcing it open Kit pushed Alison into 
the hut. Then he pulled off his skin coat, and after 
breaking two or three matches, got a light. 

The roof and turf walls were good, and he saw 
a cracked stove and a broken box. A few creosoted 
billets, hacked from a railroad tie, and two or three 
lumps of coal were in a corner. Somebody had left 
a sheet torn from a newspaper in which the man 
perhaps had carried lunch. Then the match went 
out. 

'Tull off and shake your coat,” said Kit. "Keep 
going; I'll light a fire.” 

He felt for the box, tore off a broken board and 
opened his knife. His hands were numb, and in the 
dark to whittle the wood was awkward, but he must 
husband his matches. By and by he picked up the 
newspaper. 

"Beat your hands,” he said to Alison, and when 
she did so he gave her the matches. "I want a 
light.” 

Alison used three or four matches and he careful¬ 
ly put the chips and paper and a fire-stick whittled 
to a ragged end in the stove. Then the light went 
out and Alison said: "Are you ready, Kit? The 
matches are nearly gone.” 

"Give me another—I think it's all we’ll need,” Kit 
replied and Alison, kneeling down, put a match to 
the fuel. 

A pale flame touched the chips and flickered 
along the ragged stick. A puff of smoke blew from 
the stove door, and then all was dark. 


290 CARSON OF RED RIVER 

"How many matches have you now?” Kit in¬ 
quired. 

"Three or four,” said Alison quietly. 

Kit frowned. His hands were stiff and he could 
not properly cut the end of the fire-stick, but he 
pulled out his tobacco pouch. In Western Canada 
smokers often roll the cigarettes they use, and Kit 
had some papers. When he found the packet, how¬ 
ever, it felt very thin. All the same, he must get a 
fire. The cold was arctic, and the railroad gangs 
talked of men frozen by blizzards when all thought 
winter gone. Kit felt for his wallet. 

"We’ll try another match,” he said. 

Alison gave him the light and saw the flame curl 
about two or three small strips of printed paper. 
The cigarette papers began to burn, the newspaper 
smoked and the bottom edge got red. She was very 
quiet; and Kit’s heart beat, for if the fire went out 
he knew they might freeze. For a few moments 
the newspaper smouldered and then a blaze leaped 
up. The fire-stick snapped and a bright beam shone 
from a crack in the iron. Kit threw in a billet and a 
lump of coal. 

"The fire’s going!” he shouted triumphantly. 

"This time it lighted soon,” Alison remarked. 
"What were the papers you burned?” 

Kit laughed. "I hope they were dollar bills, 
because I had some larger notes. One talks about 
burning money, but in the circumstances perhaps 
I was not extravagant.” 

He put the broken box in the corner by the stove 
for Alison, and sitting down, rested his back against 
the turf. After the turmoil outside, to sit behind 


THE STORM 


291 


thick walls was some relief, but the shack was very- 
cold and they had not much fuel. Kit doubted if 
the fire would burn for long. Alison, however, must 
not know he was anxious, and he began to talk. 

“The rail train will soon come along, and now 
we have got a light I can signal the engineer,” he 
said, and tried to cut a fresh fire-stick from a 
creosoted billet. “When I saw you were not with 
Austin I was terribly disappointed. How did you 
get left behind?” 

“Bob ordered the engineer to move some empty 
cars. It was very cold and Carrie and I went back 
to the office. Florence said she would call us, but 
she did not.” 

“Then Miss Grey knew you were at the office?” 

“Of course,” said Alison. “She was two or 
three yards off.” 

“Harries declares she sent him to the smithy,” 
Kit remarked. 

Alison looked surprised, but she resumed: “A 
man said another train was going, but when I found 
out where it loaded I had crossed the bridge. The 
men thought the train would not wait long and I 
did not go back for Carrie. I wanted to see you, 
Kit.” 

Kit noted that her color had come back; in fact, 
he thought it rather high. 

“If I had missed you I’d have started for Fair- 
mead in the morning,” he said. “You are going 
to England ?” 

“I must go; perhaps I ought not to have waited 
for the cablegram. My aunt at Whinnyates is very 
ill.” 


292 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


“But you have recently got a better post, and 
Bob states if you stay at the creamery they’ll make 
you head clerk.” 

“Oh, well, I mustn’t think about that. My aunt 
was very kind and my uncle’s old. When my 
mother died I stayed with them and I owe them 
something. You see, they’re old-fashioned, lonely 
people, Kit, and they don’t care for strangers. I 
am their relation and now they want me I cannot 
refuse.” 

Kit agreed, but he was disturbed. In fact, he 
dared not speculate about his emotions. Perhaps 
the proper line was to joke. 

“But what about the feast we fixed to celebrate 
our triumph? I’m not yet famous and your aunt 
may want you for some time.” 

“That is so,” said Alison, soberly. “If she does 
not get better, I may be forced to stay for good. 
However, if I do come back, I’ll be your guest for 
dinner when you are famous.” 

She smiled, but Kit saw she shivered, and he put 
all the wood and coal in the stove. 

“To begin with, we’ll celebrate your return by 
a royal feast. But when you left the bridge did 
you know how far off the gravel pit was?” 

“The men said it was a piece up the track, but I 
ought to make it before the train was loaded and 
I hurried off. You see, in four days I must be at 
Montreal. . . 

Kit saw she did not want to go without saying 
good-bye to him, and he was moved. Alison had 
run a worse risk than she knew, and he pictured his 
remarks to the railroad men. 


THE STORM 


293 


‘When I got to the pit the train was gone. I saw 
a storm was coming and I must reach the bridge as 
soon as possible/' Alison continued. “The track 
curves round some high ground and I thought I’d 
take a short line across the loop, and I got entangled 
in the bluffs and when I found the rails again the 
snow was thick. Until I met you, I was afraid. . . . 
But do you hear something?" 

Kit jumped up. When he pulled back the door 
a fan-shaped beam pierced the snow, and running 
for the fire-stick, he pushed the end in the stove. 
A few moments afterwards he waved the burning 
stick by the track, but the wind cut the small flame 
and it presently went out. 

Three or four yards off, a high headlamp glim¬ 
mered like a foggy moon. In the snow the roll of 
wheels was muffled, and Kit shouted with all his 
force, but the explosive snorts from the locomotive 
drowned his voice. The frozen ground shook and 
he jumped back. He saw the cab windows shine, 
and then all was dark. Thick smoke blew about 
him, and when he tried to shout he choked. In¬ 
distinct cars rolled by and vanished, and Kit leaned 
against the shack and clenched his fist. 

The bridge camp was two or three miles off; 
but one could not get there, and the engineer would 
only stop for Austin to get down. Bob thought Kit 
and Alison at the office, and when he found out 
they were not, the train would be gone. Then he 
might get a hand-car and try to search the line, but 
the snow clogged the rails and Kit doubted if flesh 
and blood could face the storm. 

Well, Alison must not know and he went back to 


294 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


the hut. Snow had blown across the floor. The 
stuff was dry and some about the bottom of the 
stove did not melt. Kit thought the stove got empty, 
but the wood and coal were gone. Alison shivered 
and her face was pinched. 

“The train did not stop,” she said. 

“When she gets to the bridge Bob will send back 
the locomotive,” Kit replied. “In the meantime we 
mustn’t freeze. Suppose you get up and dance?” 

Beating time with his numbed feet, he tried to 
whistle, but he could not command his cold lips, 
and after a few bars he stopped. 

“We must imagine the music; it goes something 
like that,” he remarked and Alison gave him her 
hand. 

To turn was awkward, and when Kit, swung 
Alison round his head struck the slanted roof. 
Tramping the powdery snow, they went back and he 
struck the frozen turf. All the light was the 
reflection from the cracked stove, and one must keep 
the wall where the roof was high; but Kit thrilled 
to hold Alison in his arms and for a few moments 
forgot that they might freeze. Then he got a 
harder knock and he thought their dancing in the 
snow was grimly humorous. The joy of harmoni¬ 
ous movement was not theirs; they danced in order 
to keep alive and their music was the screaming 
gale. One advanced three or four steps and struck 
the wall; after another few steps one risked a col¬ 
lision with the stove. 

Kit knew Alison’s pluck, but he doubted if she 
could keep it up and he began to get dizzy. At 
length she leaned against him and her body went 


THE STORM 295 

slack. Although she was breathless he felt she 
shivered. 

‘Tm sorry, but I must stop. ... If one could go 
straight ... by and by, perhaps, we’ll try another 
step.” 

“Thank you,” said Kit with ceremonious polite¬ 
ness. “I can’t get you an ice and I doubt if you’d 
enjoy it. I can, however, find you a cool spot, and 
our band does not get tired. Since we have not a 
bench under flowering plants and rose-shaded lamps 
we must use the box.” 

He pushed the box against the stove and sitting 
on the floor, gave Alison his skin coat. 

“I’m not horribly selfish, Kit,” she said. 

“Well, if you like, we’ll share the coat. At Win¬ 
nipeg station I used your rug and the coat is bi^. 
I expect it was made for a fat profiteer, and I admit 
I bought the thing at a foreign broker’s shop. Still, 
when one thinks about it, profiteers don’t use coats 
from which the fur comes off, and perhaps mine be¬ 
longed to a railroad man. We’re not fastidious. 
As a rule, the men who make things don’t get rich.” 

Alison smiled, but her smile was brave rather than 
humorous. 

“There’s no use in pretending, Kit. Suppose the 
train starts before Austin finds out we are not at 
the bridge ?” 

“Then Bob will put a trolley on the line and the 
boys will shove her along. We are not yet beaten, 
and we were up against it another time. Let’s 
imagine we are back again at the Winnipeg waiting- 
room —pilgrims and strangers, fronting • all dan¬ 
gers.” 


296 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


“Ah!” said Alison, “Carrie and Bob helped us at 
the waiting-room.” 

Kit touched the stove. The lire was very low 
and the iron got cold. He awkwardly pulled out 
his watch. 

“Bob is starting to help us at the bridge. Don’t 
you see him loading up blankets and sending for his 
best men ? Old Bob is not the sort to let a pal freeze, 
and a Canadian doesn’t stop for snow!” 

For a time they were silent. The blizzard beat 
the walls and the stove got cold. Then Alison 
said in a quiet voice: 

“The train has gone down the line, but I’m not 
very much afraid. At Winnipeg I was afraid. You 
see, I knew I must go alone. . . . The snow is 
getting deep, and I daresay it blocks the track. ...” 

Kit saw he had not persuaded her help would 
arrive. Well, for as long as possible, sh£ must not 
freeze, and he took her in his arms. The coat would 
now go round both and Alison did not push him 
back. 

“If you hadn’t bothered about seeing me, you 
would have been on board the train,” he said. 

“But, until I had seen you I couldn’t go away,” 
Alison replied. “I did see you; you went to look 
for me in the storm! You don’t really think the 
trolley will reach us. Perhaps it’s strange, but I 
don’t bother. ... I get dull, Kit, and I’m horribly 
cold.” 

Kit held her fast and kissed her. His feet and 
hands were numb, but he thought the warmth of 
his body would keep her from freezing. 

“Brace up, my dear,” he said. “Austin has 


THE STORM 


297 


started and help's not far off. We are going to beat 
the storm. Now I know you belong to me, and 
all that's mine I keep!" 

Alison said nothing, but her arm was round his 
neck and for a time he indulged a strange lethargic 
satisfaction. Then he tried to conquer his languid¬ 
ness. If he slept, he could not fight the paralyzing 
cold. Only a faint glimmer from a crack marked 
the stove, and the hut was dark. The door shook 
and he knew the gale yet raged. 

At length Alison said: “Perhaps I was asleep, but 
I heard bells chime!" 

Kit heard the blizzard and thought she dreamed. 
He said nothing, but Alison turned and tried to 
get up. 

“Something does chime—like cow-bells in a 
bluff." 

“A locomotive bell!" Kit gasped and pulled 
Alison to her feet. “A train is stopping. Bravo, 
Bob!" 

He let her go, and crept along the wall to the 
door, for his joints were stiff and his legs would 
hardly carry him. A loud bell tolled and a light 
pierced the snow, and Kit shouted. The light 
touched his face and passed. Then he saw a huge 
dark mass and steam roared in the gale. Indistinct 
figures jumped down and a lantern flickered. Some¬ 
body ran against Kit and he knew Austin's voice. 

“Hello! We've got soup and blankets. Where 
is Alison?" 

Kit turned and the lantern searched the shack. 
Alison leaned against the wall and smiled, but Kit 
knew her smile was not for Bob. He saw Austin 


298 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


and another wrap a blanket round Alison, and one 
said: “Help me carry her to the cab.” 

“The job’s mine,” said Kit, and clumsily lifting 
Alison, he started for the door. 

He struck the post, but he reached the locomotive 
and somebody pulled Alison up the steps. Then he 
was on a tool locker in the cab and drank some thick, 
hot liquid from a nickel cup. The locomotive was 
going and that was all he knew. 


CHAPTER XXX 

ALISON STEALS AWAY 

K IT, in Austin's office at the bridge, heard escap¬ 
ing steam and a locomotive pump's monoto¬ 
nous throb. When the train stopped, somebody 
pushed him from the cab, and although he had 
wanted to wait and see it start, firmly steered him to 
the office. The painful reaction from the cold was 
over, but he was dull and slack and could not rouse 
himself for the effort to go back to the line. By and 
by Florence Grey came in. 

“We are going in two or three minutes and I can¬ 
not wait, but I hope you are not frost-bitten," she 
said. 

“I'm not much damaged, thank you," Kit replied. 
“Anyhow, I'd sooner you looked after Alison and 
you mustn’t miss the train." 

“Carrie and Ted are with her, and Bob will call 
me. There's something I must tell you: Alison 
ought not to have gone to the gravel pit." 

“It's rather obvious," said Kit. “I don’t yet see 
why you and Ted left her at the bridge." 

Florence's look got embarrassed and she blushed. 
“Since my plan didn’t work, perhaps you ought 
to know. . . . Well, I didn’t want Alison to meet 

299 


300 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


you, and when the train was starting I sent Ted to 
the smithy, although I knew she wasn’t there.” 

“Ah,” said Kit, “now I do see! You hadn’t heard 
the gravel train was going, and you thought in a few 
days Alison would be on board the steamer. Well 
if she had got frozen I’d have hated you . . . 
However, since I’d have frozen by morning, you 
would not have had much grounds to be afraid of 
me. You plotted better than you thought!” 

“I have got my punishment,” said Florence in 
a quiet voice. “Alison is my chum and perhaps 
suspense is as hard to bear as cold. Then she doesn’t 
suspect my shabby trick and I dare not tell her. For 
all that, my object was good.” 

“Your nerve is pretty good,” Kit rejoined'. “I’ll 
soon be all right and I’m not revengeful, but Alison 
ran an awkward risk, and that’s another thing. 
Besides, I can’t imagine why you were determined 
I shouldn’t meet her.” 

For a few moments Florence was quiet and her 
face was red. Somehow Kit’s anger vanished. 
From the beginning she had doubted him, but when 
she claimed to be Alison’s chum she did not boast. 

“Very well,” she said, “you are not the man for 
Alison. You belong to another lot, but you have 
some charm and she’s romantic. At all events you 
interested her and she thought about you. I don’t 
claim you consciously worked upon her, but it’s 
possible, and when she was called to England I 
was glad. The drawback was she was resolved to 
see you before she went. We are flesh and blood, 
and I thought when you knew she might not come 


ALISON STEALS AWAY 301 

back you might try to carry her away. Did you, 
Kit?” 

Kit looked up. His mouth was tight and he 
knitted his brows. 

“Yes,” he said. “We were freezing and I took 
Alison in my arms and kissed her. Well, I admit 
your not trusting me was justified. Alison knows 
I love her, but I ought to marry a girl in England.” 

“You must take one of two lines: ask Alison to 
marry you, or tell her frankly why you cannot.” 

“That is so. As soon as a train goes down the 
line I’ll start for Fairmead; there’s no use in my 
going to Harper’s now, because Alison mustn’t be 
bothered yet. I hope you don’t feel you ought to 
hate me?” 

“One cannot hate you, Kit. I’m sorry for you—” 
Florence replied, and Austin opened the door. 

“Come on!” he said. “The engineer won’t wait.” 

He pushed Florence out, and coming back a few 
moments afterwards, sat down opposite Kit. 

“Did Florence state why she sent Ted to the 
smithy ? My notion is she didn’t want Alison to get 
the train.” 

“It’s possible, but we won’t bother about it,” Kit 
replied. “How did you get the locomotive?” 

Austin smiled. “You’re not going to put me 
wise? Well, when we made the bridge, all Carrie 
could tell me was you had gone to look for Alison. 
The snow was fierce and when I found out Alison 
was at the gravel pit and you had started up the 
line, the train had left Harper’s. I was scared, Kit, 
but Florence was desperate . She declared, if our 


302 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


feet were cold we could stop by the stove; she would 
shove off for the gravel pit.” 

“Miss Grey is obstinate,” Kit remarked with a 
twinkle. “You wouldn't stop for cold feet, Bob, and 
I daresay you knew mine were colder. But go 
ahead!” 

“We put a trolley on the rails. I hustled Florence 
into the office and told Carrie to stand against the 
door. We crossed the bridge and soon afterwards 
hit an Awkward drift. When the trolley jumped 
the rails we tried to carry her across. The snow was 
dry and loose and we went in to the waist; the wind 
lashed the stuff about us, and we must lift the 
heavy car. I doubted if we could make it, but the 
boys were willing. They meant to get you.” 

Kit nodded. “I can picture the fight, but when 
you're up against a blizzard pluck and muscle won't 
carry you very far. Well ?” 

“By and by my foreman came along. They'd got 
a phone call from Harper's; the train had run into a 
big drift a few miles east, and the engineer steamed 
back to the settlement. In the meantime, the Win¬ 
nipeg bosses had wired the operator to hold all 
traffic until the plows arrived. He had got my 
message and he sent the loco to the bridge. We 
butted her through the drift that stopped the trolley, 
and made the shack. Carrie and the others are at 
the Harper's hotel——” 

The cook carried in some hot food, and soon 
after Kit got supper he went to bed. 

In the morning the gale had dropped and the 
thermometer rose, but Kit was forced to wait until 
the track was cleared. After some hours a big 



ALISON STEALS AWAY 


303 


rotary plow and a freight locomotive arrived from 
the east, and hurling back waves of snow, rolled 
across the bridge. When the smoke melted in the 
plain Kit got a hand-car and two men and set off. 
The plow had cleared the rails and the car made 
good progress, but Kit brooded moodily. 

He recaptured his walking from Harper’s to the 
bridge when he first arrived. Flowers dotted the 
prairie, the sun was hot, and although he knew 
himself a stranger, his hopes were high. The trail, 
like a dark riband, curved in front and he steered 
joyously for the horizon. 

Now the sky was dark, the day was bleak, and he 
did not know where he went. He ought to marry 
Evelyn, but he loved Alison. Moreover, Alison 
knew he loved her and since she knew about Evelyn 
she had cause to think him a philandering wastrel. 
Anyhow, if Alison did not, Evelyn was entitled to 
do so. 

Well, he must take one of two lines, and he frank¬ 
ly hesitated. For him to pay for his folly was just, 
but it looked as if another must pay. Evelyn’s 
letters were cold and carried a hint of resentment. 
If she knew he had gone to the workshops sooner 
than take his friend’s post, she would be annoyed; 
Alison knew and approved. Yet although he wanted 
Alison, his duty was to marry Evelyn. In the mean¬ 
time he must see Alison; it was all he really knew. 

At length the roofs at Harper’s broke the snowy 
plain, and Kit saw freight-cars on the side-track. 
The locomotive faced west and he knew the rail 
train had gone, but he hoped Mrs. Austin would 
wait for the passenger-cars and her party was yet 


304 CARSON OF RED RIVER 

at the hotel. When he inquired at the office the 
landlord said they had started east soon after the 
plow arrived, and gave Kit a note. 

Kit knew Alison's hand, and he went to the stove 
in the dining-room, but when he tore open the 
envelope his hand shook. Then he set his mouth, 
for Alison firmly pointed the proper line. 

“There is no use in pretending, Kit,” she wrote. 
“At the shack I was willing for you to know I loved 
you. You see, my dear, I did not believe help would 
reach us; I thought we soon would freeze. In the 
numbing cold, when hope was gone, all I wanted was 
to have you near me. 

“Well, it’s done with, and when Florence said 
you were coming to Harper's I saw I must steal 
away. You must not cheat, Kit; and if, for my 
sake, you broke your word I would be ashamed. I 
would hate to feel I’d stolen another's lover. You 
must do all you engaged to do, and I will wish you 
luck. Perhaps my letter’s cold, but I must use 
control and you will not get another. When you 
arrive I shall be at Winnipeg and soon afterwards on 
board the ship. Good-bye, Kit. Go straight—the 
way you like to go—and look in front. By and by 
the road will get easy.” 

Kit put the letter in the stove. All was done with, 
for Alison was proud and firm, but when the paper 
flared and blackened he clenched his fist. 

For a time he was very quiet; and then he heard 
a locomotive whistle and he went to the track. The 
freight train was pulling out, the men had put the 
trolley on a flat car, and Kit jumped for the caboose. 
He dared not think about Alison and he tried to 






305 


ALISON STEALS AWAY 

look in front To begin with he must build the 
tank, and then, if all went well, he would claim 
Evelyn. In the meantime he would say nothing; 
until his work was tested he must not boast. 

The blizzard was winter's last belated fury. The 
snow melted in the hot sun and the bleached grass 
got green. Sandhill cranes trailed across the sky, 
and ducks and geese steering north stopped to rest 
by the prairie sloos. Kit moodily concentrated on 
his building. To be occupied was some relief and 
the tank grew fast. 

At length, one day when the birches and poplars 
in the bluff unfolded their fresh leaves, a locomotive 
and an observation car arrived, and three or four 
gentlemen got down. Kit stopped the noisy pump 
that fed the tank and went to meet the party. Al¬ 
though he must reckon on expert criticism he was 
cool. The job was good, but if the others were not 
satisfied it would not bother him. 

Wheeler presented him to a railroad engineer, and 
the party walked about the tank and climbed to the 
top. Kit had pumped in the full load, but all the 
joints were tight and the steel was dry and clean. 
After a time the party returned to the open gallery 
at the back of the car and the railroad engineer 
said to Kit: 

“I like your tank and reckon she will carry her 
load, but we have agreed about some alterations of 
which your chief will give you particulars. Although 
your construction's first-class, we see a better plan 
to filter out the salts. Will you take a smoke?" 

He pulled out some cigarettes and when Kit 
thanked him went into the car. Kit knew he had got 


306 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


a compliment from a famous man. Wheeler and 
another stopped, and Kit remarked his twinkle. 

“You have put it across, young fellow! To get 
a cigar from Jameson is like getting a riband for 
your coat. He acknowledges you Companion in the 
Knights of the Track.” 

“I suppose I ought to' be flattered, but I imagined 
in Canada you had not much use for ribands,” Kit 
rejoined, and turned to the other gentleman. “All 
I really want, sir, is the company's approval.” 

“You’re modest,” remarked the bridge-works 
manager. “There was a sort of agreement that if 
you put up the tank we would put up your pay, and 
if you undertake to build the row the agreement 
stands. The only stipulation is, you must stay for 
twelve months, after which we’ll talk about things 
again. The railroad engineers, however, have 
modified the plans.” 

Wheeler gave Kit some drawings, and after a 
few minutes he said: 

“I’m keen to stay, sir, and the alterations ought 
not to bother us. All the same you must use heavier 
columns and wider plates.” 

“That is so. We must wait for the material. 
The molders strike has stopped the foundries, and 
the rolling mills cannot supply the plates for some 
time. In fact, we may be held up for five or six 
weeks.” 

Kit saw his opportunity. Evelyn did not know 
his luck had turned. She ought to know and he 
could go across and see her. 

“Before I start on the fresh job I want a holiday 
and since you must wait for the steel my going will 


ALISON STEALS AWAY 307 

not embarrass you. I'll undertake to be back in a 
month, but I’d like to be longer.” 

“Oh, well,” said Wheeler, “I knew you had some 
gall! Now you have built a tank you reckon we 
ought to stand for a month’s pay?” 

“I suppose the pay begins when I get to work, but 
it’s not important. Anyhow, I must go across to 
the Old Country. The formula is urgent private 
affairs.” 

Wheeler turned to the manager. “Carson’s 
obstinate and I reckon his modesty’s not con¬ 
spicuous, but I’ll be accountable for his coming back 
on time.” 

The other nodded, and Wheeler said to Kit: 
“You can pull out when you like, and when you 
claim your pay I guess the clerk will meet the bill. 
There’s another thing—we can fix it for you to get 
a free ride to Montreal.” 

Kit thanked him and went back to the tank. Soon 
afterwards the train steamed off, and sitting in the 
grass he lighted his pipe. Wheeler was a useful 
friend. On the surface the fellow was a bully, and 
where he ruled a slacker’s lot was hard, but Kit 
knew him for a first-class sort. All the same he did 
not want to think about Wheeler. 

Evelyn’s letters bothered him. It looked as if she 
bore some strain and got tired. Well, he was engaged 
to marry her and so long as she was willing the en¬ 
gagement stood. When he saw her he would know; 
but she must join him in Canada. He could get a 
house at Fairmead, and Carrie Austin would be 
kind. To picture Evelyn’s ruling a home like 


308 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


Carrie's was hard, but Kit began to see she was not 
the girl her lover ought to leave alone. 

Then he knocked out his pipe and smiled, a rather 
moody smile. He admitted his luck was remarkably 
good. He had conquered, but in the circumstances 
his conquering was a grim joke. Alison was gone 
and all was flat. When he looked forward he saw 
a long, dreary road. Yet there was no use in brood¬ 
ing, he must brace up and push ahead. 

By and by the cook called him for supper; and 
two or three days afterwards he started for 
Montreal. When he arrived in Canada he went 
second-class; now he travelled by Pullman, but the 
hope he had known had vanished. 



CHAPTER XXXI 


WHINNYATES FARM 

T EN days after Kit left the tank he got down at 
a quiet station in the North of England. The 
train rolled on across a bridge, and by contrast 
with the trains in Canada, he thought it ridiculously 
small. A few country people crossed the platform, 
and a farmer’s gig and a battered car waited at the 
gate. Although Kit had telegraphed from Liver¬ 
pool, the Netherhall car had not arrived and he saw 
nobody he knew. 

Putting his bag and coat on a bench he looked 
about. The evening was cold, and in the west 
yellow light shone behind lead-colored clouds. 
Bleak moors, in dark silhouette, cut the ominous 
glow; a flooded river brawled under the railway 
bridge, and the road that went up-hill was wet. At 
the top of the hill a ragged fir wood loomed indis¬ 
tinctly in rolling mist. Kit smiled. It was summer 
in the north, and all he saw threatened storm. 

Netherhall was eight miles off, and the nearest inn 
was at the village in the dale. Before long heavy 
rain would sweep the moors and Kit doubted if the 
car would arrive. It did not look as if his relations 
were very keen to welcome him, but he reflected 
309 


310 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


with rather grim humor that he had gone away in 
disgrace, and although he was perhaps entitled to 
claim he came back in triumph, nobody yet knew. 
To some extent, he had been afraid to boast; to 
some extent he admitted he had indulged his rather 
boyish pride. 

Then he began to think about Evelyn. Where 
others doubted she believed in him; she had stuck 
to him nobly and for his sake had borne some strain. 
After a time, perhaps, she got daunted, but she had 
grounds for disappointment, and the news he sent 
had not helped her much. Well, in two or three 
hours she would know he had made good; but he 
must take the road. 

The wind was cold and Kit put on his coat and 
seized his bag. He set off briskly, but when he got 
to the top of the long hill he admitted the bag was 
heavier than he had thought, and he speculated 
about the Netherhall car. Mrs. Carson had got his 
telegram, but perhaps her husband had not. Kit’s 
mouth curved in a crooked smile, but he would not 
trouble Mrs. Carson for long. Her fastidiousness 
accounted for his carrying the bag, although he 
doubted if she would approve the dinner-jacket he 
bought at Montreal. 

By and by he heard an engine throb and he 
stepped on the grass. A car stopped, and Kit looked 
up. Two or three large dusty sacks occupied the 
back, a wing was broken and the shabby paint was 
scratched. The engine rattled noisily and Kit knew 
the rattle. In Canada he had used cars like that A 
brown-skinned young fellow held the wheel. 

“Are you going far?” he inquired. 


WHINNYATES FARM 311 

Kit said he was bound for Netherdale, and the 
other told him to jump up. 

‘Til give you a lift for three or four miles. Don’t 
know, but I might go by village and over gap. I’m 
carrying some calf meal for Tyson o’ Whinnyates; 
my farm’s not far from his. We’s see when we get 
to water-splash.” 

“Mrs. Tyson was ill,” said Kit when the car 
rolled ahead. “Do you know if she’s better?” 

“She begins to get aboot, but for a time she was 
near away with it, and Joe Tyson sent for’s niece in 
Canada.” 

“Is Miss Forsyth now at Whinnyates?” 

“She was there in t’morning when I started for 
market, but Joe was yoking pony to tak’ her to 
Langrigg, and he reckoned she’d stop for t’night. 
D’ye ken Miss Forsyth?” 

Kit said he met Alison in Canada, and the other 
resumed: “Then, ye ken a leal, kind lass! She 
came back four thousand miles to nurse her aunt, 
and Joe reckons she did as much as doctor to pull old 
body round-” 

He slowed at an awkward corner, and Kit 
speculated about Alison. If Mrs. Tyson did not 
need her she might return to the creamery, and Kit 
hoped she would do so. Alison ought not to remain 
at Whinnyates; she had qualities and talents she 
could not use at the lonely farm, but if she did not 
go soon the moors might claim her. One lost the 
alert keenness Canadians valued, and in the bleak 
dales a woman’s work was hard. Kit hated to 
picture Alison’s laboring at the byres and perhaps in 
the fields. 



312 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


Then a pale yellow beam touched the road and he 
looked about. Thin mist rolled across the broken 
moor and vague, dark hills melted in thunder-clouds. 
The road curved across open heath, and white, wild 
cotton bent in the wind. Big drops splashed in the 
pools and stopped. Then a guide-post cut the threat¬ 
ening sky and Kit remarked: “There’s your road; 
I’ll get down.” 

“If we can get through water-splash, I’ll go by 
village. Gap bank’s easier than t’other, and she’s 
carrying a good load.” 

They ran down a hill and at the bottom the driver 
slackened speed, for an angry flood swept the 
hollow. At one side a white turmoil and a broken 
rail marked the narrow footbridge. 

“You’ll not get across and if I tried’t I reckon 
car would stall,” the farmer remarked. “Mireside 
brig’s not far from Whinnyates. We’ll go by 
Birkfell.” 

He turned the car, and when they climbed the 
hill rushy fields and wet moors melted in the rain. 
The car had not a hood, but the driver pulled out a 
tarpaulin, and crouching behind the battered sheet, 
they fronted the deluge. Water streamed from the 
glass and leaped about the wheels. Rivulets cut the 
mossy bank and one could not see two hundred 
yards. Kit, however, knew the north, and at 
Netherdale floods in summer are not remarkable. 

After a time the car jolted up an uneven track. 
Kit saw a wet hillside and by and by white buildings 
behind bent ash trees. When the car stopped he 
knew they had arrived at Whinnyates, but Alison 
was visiting with friends and he would not meet her. 


WHINNYATES FARM 


313 


“I must help Joe tak’ in bags,” said the driver and 
blew his horn. “I doubt he does not hear us and 
you might gan to door. When we’re unloaded you’ll 
come home with me and wait for rain to blow off.” 

Kit went up the path, but after a few moments 
he stopped and his heart beat. Alison came to the 
door and waved to the man in the road. 

“Wait a moment, Jim; I’ll send Uncle Joe!” 

Then she saw Kit and the blood came to her skin. 

“Oh, Kit!” she said, “I didn’t know you were 
back!” 

“It looks as if nobody knew,” Kit remarked with 
a twinkle, because he saw he must be cool. “When 
I arrived, half an hour since, the car was not at 
the station and your friend picked me up. I was 
going to his house.” 

“If you go to Jim’s, my uncle will be much an¬ 
noyed,” Alison replied. “But I must send him to 
unload the meal. Come in!” 

“Perhaps I ought to thank your friend,” said 
Kit, and went back to the road, where Jim pulled 
a heavy bag from the car. Kit did not see Tyson 
and he seized the bag. 

“Help me up with it! There’s no use in your 
getting wet.” 

He got the load on his back, and lowering his 
head, steered for the barn. At the door an old 
man advanced, as if to help. 

“Don’t bother! Show me where to dump the 
stuff,” Kit gasped. 

After a moment or two he threw down his load 
and straightened his back. The meal stuck to his 
wet coat, and his soft hat was crushed and marked 


314 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


by a grey patch. Kit laughed, smoothed his hat, and 
turned to the farmer. Tyson was tall, but his 
shoulders were bent. His hair was white and his 
brown face was lined, and Kit thought him a typical 
dalesman: the older dales folk were not cultivated, 
but they were shrewd, laborious, independent and 
frugal. Tyson gave him his hand. 

“You were kind to our lass, Mr. Carson, and 
you're varra welcome. Gan to hoose. I’se wait for 
Jim.” 

Jim arrived with another bag and Kit crossed 
the yard. Alison was at the back porch. Her color 
was rather high, but she gave Kit a level, inquiring 
glance, and he knew he must explain his arrival. 

“I expect you’re puzzled, and perhaps you’re 
sympathetic,” he remarked with a smile. “Looks as 
if I’d got fired?” 

“No,” said Alison quietly. “Had the company 
turned you down, you would not have come back. 
You have built the tanks!” 

“To feel somebody believes in you is comforting,” 
said Kit. “The first tank is built, and when the 
manager ordered me to put up the lot I felt I was 
entitled to take a holiday. I think that’s all. I did 
not expect to see you; Jim stated you were visiting 
friends.” 

He imagined Alison knew it was all he dared talk 
about, but the look she gave him was strange and 
searching. 

“I started for a farm across the hills, but the 
storm was bad and the water was on the road,” she 
said. “But my aunts want to see you and I must 
get supper.” 


WHINNYATES FARM 


315 


She showed Kit into a big flagged kitchea Old 
ash trees grew near the window and the rain beat 
the glass. For the most part the kitchen was dark, 
but a fire burned in the big grate and the reflections 
touched polished brass and oak furniture. Kit 
thought the furniture was made when the house was 
built, and the crooked beams that carried the ceiling 
were cut long since. 

An old woman got up from a chair by the fire, 
and when she gave Kit her hand he saw she studied 
him. Well, some curiosity was justified. Mrs. 
Tyson knew who he was; she probably knew he was 
forced to leave the shipyard, and Alison had talked 
about their adventures. Mrs. Tyson was thin and 
worn by sickness and labor, but her glance was keen, 
and her calm, somehow, was proud. 

; “You’re welcome. If the rain does not stop you’ll 
bide for the night.” 

“I must try for Netherhall,” said Kit. “You 
ought not to have got up. I hope you’re better?” 

“Getting up is boddersome, but when you must 
you can,” Mrs. Tyson replied, and put some old 
blue-pattern plates on the table. 

Kit went to a settle by the fire, and after a few 
moments Alison came in and helped her aunt. Kit 
was satisfied to watch her. Alison moved harmon¬ 
iously, and he liked her background. For all its 
austerity, the big room was homelike. Dark wood 
shone in the reflections from the grate, and he 
remarked the ruddy gleam of copper. Nothing was 
modem, but he felt all was good. The dalesfolk 
had no use for ambitious pretense. Their virtues 
and their drawbacks were primitive. Kit knew he 


316 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


himself sprang from stock like that, and he had 
inherited a primitive veiti> perhaps from his 
ancestor the smith. He thought he saw where 
Alison got her pluck and balance. 

Mrs. Tyson called him to supper. The food was 
good, and to know his hosts were kind helped his 
appetite. In the farm kitchen he was at home. He 
had felt at home at the Canadian camps, but at 
Netherhall he had not. Somehow he was conscious 
of a subtle antagonism. 

“Will you take some more, Kit ?" Alison inquired. 
“Since steamship cooking's luxurious, I'm glad you 
like your supper." 

“My liking it is rather obvious," said Kit, and 
gave his plate. “Anyhow, I know your cooking; I 
have not forgotten our feasts on board the cars. 
When I think about them, I recapture my lunch by 
the bluff at Harper’s—crackers and cheese and the 
canned fruit the storekeeper gave me. How do you 
account for it ?" 

He thought Alison blushed, but she began to talk 
about Austin and Florence, and after a time Mrs. 
Tyson said: 

“You’ll not have got much news from Netherhall 
latterly?" 

Kit remarked her use of the negative form, but 
he said he had not got much news and he thought 
she pondered. Alison was quiet, and Tyson talked 
about the floods. At length Mrs. Tyson got up and 
Kit went to the window. The ash trees shook in the 
wind and big drops splashed on the grass but the 
rain had stopped. 



WHINNYATES FARM 317 

“I’m sorry to go, but I must take the road,” he 
said. 

“You had better get over fell in daylight,” Tyson 
agreed. “We’re plain folks, Mr. Carson, but if 
you’re lonesome at Netherhall, we’ll be glad to see 
ye back.” 

Kit got his coat and Alison went with him to the 
door. When they reached the porch Kit stopped 
and looked about. Mist rolled across the moors and 
the hills melted in the dark. A cold wind tossed the 
ash branches, and he heard a flooded beck. All was 
bleak and daunting, but the cheerful firelight 
flickered about the kitchen. Kit admitted he was 
not keen to start, and when he looked at Alison he 
knew she knew. Yet he felt she was somehow re¬ 
mote and elusive; in Canada Alison was frank. 

“In the dark the fell road’s awkward,” she 
remarked. 

“You want me to push off?” 

“I think you ought to go,” said Alison in a quiet, 
meaning voice. 

Kit smiled, but the smile cost him much. 

“Well, I’ve got to indulge you. When you stole 
away from Harper’s you showed me my proper 
road, and the road was straight. That’s all, my 
dear. Are you going back to Fairmead?” 

“I don’t know, Kit,” said Alison. “If the old 
folks need me, I’ll be content to stop. To come 
back was hard, but after all to be head clerk at the 
creamery i 9 not a great ambition. One must take 
some knocks, but sometimes the knocks one is forced 
to take don’t hurt as much as one imagines.” 

She gave Kit her hand and when he took the hill 


318 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


track he was puzzled. Alison knew why he went to 
Netherhall and why he used control. All the same 
he fancied she and her relations knew something he 
did not Anyhow she did not want another’s lover; 
Alison was kind, but she was firm and proud. Kit 
set his mouth and pushed ahead. 



CHAPTER XXXII 


KIT CLAIMS HIS REWARD 

D INNER was over at Netherhall, and Kit 
thought the old servant who took his bag and 
coat gave him a queer look. The man said Mrs. 
Carson had not yet gone to the drawing-room and 
opened a door. 

Kit’s boots were muddy, and now the light was 
good he saw he had not altogether brushed the calf- 
meal from his damp clothes. It did not look as if 
he were expected. Tyson’s remarks bothered him, 
and he half-consciously braced up. 

“Mr. Christopher!” said the servant, and Kit 
advanced. 

The hall was spacious and the ceiling high. Only 
two tall pillar lamps were lighted, and Kit imagined 
Mrs. Carson would soon go to the drawing-room. 
She occupied a chair by the fireplace, and the 
illumination touched the group about her. All were 
quiet, and Kit stopped. 

He knew he ought not to stop; he hated to be 
theatrical, but he felt his arrival was dramatic, and 
for a moment he did not see his part. The people 
by the fire had obviously got something of a jolt— 
all, perhaps, but Mrs. Carson, for Kit did not think 
319 


320 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


her surprised. Mrs. Haigh turned her head sharply, 
and Alan Carson’s face got red. Farther back, Kit 
saw Jasper on a big couch. His look was inscrut¬ 
able, but somehow Kit thought him amused. 

Then Alan crossed the floor. His embarrassment 
was marked, and Kit knew he had forgotten his 
wife was hostess and was jealous for her authority. 

“I’m glad to see you back,” he said. “You can 
hardly have got my letter?” 

“The last letter I got arrived some time ago and 
was about the accident at the forge,” Kit replied, 
and turned to Jasper. “I hope you are better, sir!” 

“Thank you,” said Jasper with dry politeness. 
“We will talk about my injuries again. In the 
meantime, your arrival has excited some. curi¬ 
osity-” 

“That is so,” Alan agreed. “Why did you not 
write to us, Kit?” 

Kit went to the fireplace. Mrs. Carson waited, 
and he addressed her. 

“I started rather suddenly and expected to arrive 
as soon as a letter. I telegraphed from Liverpool.” 

“Then we did not get your message,” said Alan, 
and turned to Mrs. Carson. “Shall I ring for Stubs 
and inquire ? The fellow is careless.” 

Mrs. Carson stopped him, and giving Kit her 
hand, indicated a chair. She was polite and not at 
all embarrassed, and Kit imagined she knew some¬ 
thing about the telegram. He, however, did not find 
out. 

“At any rate, Kit wants some food, and I don’t 
know if a room is ready,” Alan went on. “Let me 
call Stubs.” 


KIT CLAIMS HIS REWARD 


321 


“Stubs knows his business,” Mrs. Carson re¬ 
joined. “I expect Kit would like to rest for a few 
minutes.” 

Kit sat down. Alan's fussy kindness was sincere, 
but Kit saw he was disturbed, and the others' satis¬ 
faction certainly was not marked. Sometimes in 
Canada he had pictured his triumphant return. 

“Please don't bother,” he said. “You see, I got 
some food at Whinnyates.” 

“At Whinnyates? But why did you go to the 
farm?” Mrs. Carson asked. 

“A fellow driving a car picked me up on the 
road. I helped unload some cattle-meal, and Tyson 
gave me supper. When the rain went off I took the 
path across the fell,” Kit replied, and thought he had 
told the others all they ought to know. 

“Kit's clothes support his statement,” Jasper 
remarked. “His habit is to undertake humorous 
adventures. Well, I don’t see Harry carrying cattle- 
meal.” 

Kit turned his head. Evelyn and Led ward 
crossed the floor, and Kit thought her startled. Led- 
ward's smile was rather forced. 

“Hello, Kit! I don’t know if we expected you, 
but your coming across was kind.” 

Evelyn gave Kit her hand. Her skin was cold 
and her color had vanished. When others were 
about one controlled one’s emotions, but it did not 
look as if Evelyn’s were joyous. She said nothing, 
and Mrs. Carson remarked: 

“We don't yet know why you have come back, 
Kit, and I admit some curiosity. Although Evelyn 
told us you expected to get promoted at the 


322 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


Manitoba bridge, you soon went away. I hope you 
have not given up another post!” 

Kit knew Mrs. Carson's antagonism, and he got 
a hint of rather cruel satisfaction. Mrs. Haigh’s 
look was hard, and Evelyn's was strange, but as a 
rule, when Kit was perplexed he indulged his freak¬ 
ish humor, and his mouth curved in a crooked smile. 

“Since you know my habits, I expect you hope 
I was not dismissed” he said. “On the whole, how¬ 
ever, I think my not staying at the bridge was the 
proper plan. I went to the workshops, and after a 
time the company undertook to build some loco¬ 
motive tanks. The tanks are large, and the cheap 
construction’s awkward; but at a shipyard one 
learns something about the obstacles the engineers 
were up against. Well, I mustn’t bore you. The 
company approved my suggestions, and when I put 
up an experimental tank they ordered me to build the 
lot. Since we were forced to wait for the material, 
I took a holiday.” 

Mrs. Carson's surprise was frank, Mrs. Haigh’s 
look got thoughtful, and Jasper chuckled. 

“You don’t boast, Kit! I know something about 
the undertaking. The opposition’s tanks leak, and 
if yours are tight I reckon your advance will be 
fast.” 

“It's possible, sir. All the same, the tanks are 
not yet built, and another time when I ’got an im¬ 
portant job my luck was not very good.” 

The others said nothing, and Kit thought their 
quietness ominous. Jasper had indicated that he 
had made good, and all knew the reward he was 


KIT CLAIMS HIS REWARD 323 

entitled to claim. After a moment or two, however, 
Mrs. Carson looked up. 

“We hope you will be successful, Kit, and you 
no doubt deserve a holiday; but when you arrived 
we imagined you had got your uncle's letter and 
had come for the wedding.” 

“Whose wedding?” Kit asked sharply. 

“Evelyn's and mine,” said Ledward. “We are to 
be married very soon.” 

Kit tried for control. Mrs. Haigh had cheated 
him, and he turned and faced her. Her mouth was 
crooked and her face was lined; he felt he saw her 
as she really was—unscrupulous, shabbily ambitious, 
and altogether mean. The strange thing was, he 
knew she pondered. 

“Since all is fixed, there is not much use in 
talking; but perhaps I am entitled to inquire from 
Evelyn why she decided to turn me down,” he said 
in a level voice. 

“After all, Evelyn did not promise to marry you.” 

“That is so. The stipulation was, I must get a 
good post. Well, my post is pretty good and I 
expect promotion; but to see Evelyn for two or 
three minutes is all I ask.” 

Mrs. Haigh signified agreement, and Mrs. Carson 
said, “The lamps are lighted in the drawing-room.” 

Evelyn went to the drawing-room and stopped by 
the fireplace. Kit leaned against a table a yard 
or two off. He knitted his brows, but his mouth 
curved, and Evelyn sensed ironical humor. In fact, 
she thought him like his uncle. 

“Well?” she said, with an effort for calm. 

“I'm not going to bully you. I want to know how 


324 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


far Mrs. Haigh is accountable for your dropping 
me. No doubt she used some persuasion!" 

“You believe she coerced me?” 

“It's possible. When others thought me a thief 
and you'd have been justified to let me go, you were 
splendidly stanch." 

“I was very rash," Evelyn rejoined. “But suppose 
I admitted I agreed to marry Ledward because my 
mother urged?" 

“Then I'd see you did not!" said Kit in a quiet 
voice. “Although I'm not rich, I can support a wife, 
and I begin to go ahead. Perhaps my argument's 
not a lover's argument, but it has some weight. If 
you'll risk the plunge, I'll carry you off." 

Evelyn was moved and humiliated. Kit was the 
reckless, impulsive lover she had thought. Yet she 
felt she must punish him for her shabbiness, and 
she laughed. 

“It looks as if you knew mother, but did not 
know me! I'm not at all romantic and I weigh 
things. When you gave up your post at the shipyard 
I saw you did not think for me-" 

“The shipyard people sent me off," said Kit. 

“I am not a fool," Evelyn rejoined. “You might 
have stayed and allowed the thief to be found out; 
but so long as you felt you were very noble, you 
were satisfied to leave me alone. A girl hates to be 
left alone, Kit. She expects her lover to admire her, 
to help her get all she wants and make life joyous. 
Well, I admit I like to be where people are; I like 
fashionable clothes, and I hate poverty. You knew, 
and you ought to have made some effort to get rich; 
but when you went to Canada you once more 


KIT CLAIMS HIS REWARD 


325 


indulged your romantic vein. You didn't bother 
about my waiting at dreary Netherdale, pitied, 
rather contemptuously, by my relations." 

“It looks as if I was selfishly careless, but until 
about a week since I couldn’t meddle. I didn’t 
know I would build the tanks, and my pay was small. 
The strange thing was, you thought Harry would 
see you out! I imagine he’s not rich." 

Evelyn was highly strung, and Kit’s coolness 
broke her control. She saw she had not yet hurt 
him much. 

“Jasper Carson was your friend and meant to 
help, but you antagonized him. Harry seized the 
chance you rather scornfully refused. He’s your 
uncle’s manager." 

“Now I see!" said Kit, with a crooked smile. 
“Your object was to marry my rich uncle’s favorite? 
Well, since Led ward has knocked me out, there’s 
nothing to be said; but to know his personal charm 
hadn’t much to do with it is some comfort." 

Evelyn turned and faced him. Her skin was 
very white and her look was strained. 

“You have some charm, Kit. Perhaps the trouble 

is, I have not much pluck. After all, I’m sorry-" 

she said, and signed him to go. 

Kit went, and his emotions were very mixed. At 
length he knew Evelyn, and yet he felt she was 
sorry; he had sensed a note of sincere regret. Well, 
her remarks were justified, and he certainly was a 
fool; she was not the girl her lover ought to leave 
alone. Then he clenched his fists and frowned. 
For Evelyn’s sake he had tried to conquer his love 
for Alison, and when he thought Mrs. Haigh bullied 



326 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


her he had meant to carry her off. His anger 
vanished; he saw his heroic plan was humorous, and 
all he felt was relief. Evelyn was her mother’s 
daughter, and she had given him his freedom. 

When he got back to the hall Jasper gave him a 
smile. 

“Then you are resigned, Kit? Since you like 
romantic exploits, I wondered whether you might 
not copy young Lochinvar , s. ,, 

“The romantic days are gone, sir, and the bride 
was not willing,” Kit replied, and turned to Mrs. 
Carson. “I shall not be long in England, and for 
me to stay at Netherhall might be embarrassing. In 
the circumstances, I’ll go to the inn.” 

“If you would sooner, Kit, I must agree.” 

“Kit must stay here!” said Alan, and his eyes 
sparkled. “You have got a nasty knock, my boy, 
and I understand your feeling sore. In fact, I’ll 
risk stating that you have some cause to be annoyed. 
For all that, you’re my nephew and you are not 
going to the inn.” 

“You are kind, sir, but I think you’re my only 
friend,” said Kit, and faced the others. “When 
I left the shipyard you were willing for me to steal 
off to Canada. I expect you really doubted my 
innocence, and you afterwards took it for granted 
I carelessly refused to use the chances I got. My 
remaining might be awkward, and I think you’ll be 
philosophical.” 

“Come here, Kit!” said Jasper. “I want you and 
I cannot get up.” 

Kit went to the couch. He felt he owed Jasper 


KIT CLAIMS HIS REWARD 327 


nothing and the old fellow had joined his antagon¬ 
ists. For all that, his weakness bothered him. 

“You must be just, and your statement was not 
accurate,” Jasper resumed. “I, at all events, did 
not think you robbed the shipyard company.” 

“If you felt I was not the sort to let down my 
employers, I’m flattered; but I imagine you had some 
other grounds-” 

“Your keenness is remarkable! Your friend 
Blake and his wife looked me up. I rather think 
Mrs. Blake forced her husband to be frank. Any¬ 
how, I know who did sell the plans.” 

Kit glanced at the others. For Jasper to vindicate 
him was something of a triumph. Mrs, Carson’s 
pose was stiff, and she turned her head. Alan 
frankly exulted. Mrs. Haigh looked straight in 
front and her thin mouth was tight. Kit saw she 
was disturbed, but he turned to Jasper. 

“Yet you said nothing! You allowed me to carry 
a hateful load.” 

“To begin with, I did not know where you were,” 
said Jasper dryly. “I might have found out, but 
since you obviously did not want me to know, I 
hesitated to inquire. All the same, I informed 
Meredith and Colvin, and if you like you can go 
back to the yard. Well, I suppose you are angry. 
Perhaps my line was puzzling; but as a rule I have 
an object-” 

Mrs. Haigh gave Jasper a queer look, and Kit 
thought she saw his object; but it was not important. 

“I am not going back to the shipyard, sir. I have 
a better job!” 

“Then before you start for Canada I want to see 




328 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


you. I am your uncle and the head of the house, 
and to meet me will not cost you much. Since 
getting about is awkward, perhaps you will allow 
me to fix the time and spot ,, 

Kit was savage, but the old fellow's infirmity 
disarmed him. He agreed, and with an effort for 
politeness took his leave of Mrs. Carson, gave Alan 
his hand, and went off. 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


JASPER WINS 

I N the morning Kit crossed the moor to Whinn- 
yates. The sun shone, the wind was fresh, and 
swift cloud-shadows checkered the dry bent-grass. 
A larch wood on the hillside was bright like an 
emerald; the sheltered hollows were green with 
springing fern. 

Kit went fast, and his mood was buoyant. He 
had done all he agreed to do, and now he was 
entitled to think for himself. Since Evelyn had 
cheated, he was free to marry where he loved. For 
all that, he had not yet persuaded Alison, and in the 
circumstances she might hesitate. Kit banished his 
doubts and smiled. As a rule, where he thought 
he had a rather heroic part the part was humorous, 
but he tried to play up. Well, Alison knew his 
follies and extravagances, and somehow he hoped 
she was not daunted. 

When he got to Whinnyates nobody was about. 
The old ash trees tossed and the shadows of their 
thin leaves trembled on the stones. In the back¬ 
ground sheep climbed the broken hillside and their 
faint bleating was musical. A noisy beck plunged 
down a ghyll and vanished behind a wall. 

329 


330 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


Kit crossed the farmyard to the porch. The door 
was open, and by contrast with the sunshine the 
kitchen was dark. Mrs. Tyson occupied a rocking- 
chair; Tyson by the chimney stirred a big black pot. 
When he heard Kit’s step he turned and his eyes 
twinkled. 

“You’re back? Weel, we’s glad t’ see you. 
You’ll stop for dinner?” 

“Thank you,” said Kit. “You’re hospitable folk. 
I wonder whether you expected me?” 

Tyson looked at his wife. The dalesfolk are keen, 
but they are cautious. Mrs. Tyson gave Kit a 
thoughtful glance. 

“We reckoned you might come across. You 
kenned you’d be welcome.” 

“That’s something,” said Kit. “You see, I want 
to marry Alison. I thought you ought to know.” 

“Alison’s a fine lass. You’ll get none better, but 
she’s not your aunt’s sort,” Mrs. Tyson remarked. 

“Her father was a statesman, but when he died 
farm was sold to pay his debts, and t’lass came to 
us,” said Tyson. “Tom Forsyth’s land was wet 
and sour; maybe he was a bit feckless, but his luck 
was bad. Alison’s her mother’s dowter, an Wythops 
o’ Lang Fell are canny, striving folk. Weel, my 
farm’s landlord’s, and when I and Kate are gone 
t’lass will maybe get five hundred pounds. I reckon 
it’s aw’.” 

Kit knew a statesman is a yeoman farmer, owning 
the soil he cultivates, and he smiled. 

“Mrs. Carson is not my aunt; I doubt if she’d 
admit I am her sort, and my fortune is sixty pounds. 


JASPER WINS 331 

Perhaps for Alison to marry me would be rash, but 
Eve got a good job and I know her pluck.” 

"It’s for t’lass to choose,” said Mrs. Tyson. 
“You'll find her by t’beck.” 

Kit went along a stony lane. The splash of water 
got louder, and by and by Alison, carrying a large 
bucket, pushed back a gate. Her clothes were cotton 
print and she wore a blue sun-bonnet. When she 
saw Kit she stopped, and her color came and went. 
Kit put the bucket on the wall and held the gate. 

“I think you know I love you, Alison.” 

“You did not tell me properly, Kit; but I did 
know,” said Alison in a quiet voice. 

“Then why did you let me go to Netherhall? 
You had heard about the marriage my relations 
planned.” 

“I thought you ought to go,” Alison replied, and 
gave Kit a level glance. “If you had not gone, you 
would always have been sorry. Besides, I'd hate to 
think I tempted you to shabbiness.” 

“You are very proud, my dear, but I like your 
pride. Well, you tried me out, and now you ought 
to be kind, because the test was hard. In a week or 
two I must go back and get to work. Will'you 
marry me before I start?” 

“Are you altogether sure you want me, Kit?” 

Kit smiled. “Perhaps your inquiry's logical, but 
I don't think you doubt. I wanted you, un¬ 
consciously, at the Winnipeg waiting-room, and 
when your train went I was forlorn. Afterwards, 
when I stayed with Bob for week-ends my visits 
were marked by a happiness for which I could not 
account. I thought Austin's home charming; I 


332 CARSON OF RED RIVER 

didn’t know the real charm was you were at the 
house.” 

“Ah,” said Alison, “I 'wonder whether Florence 
enlightened you! Now I think about it, she forced 
the locomotive engineer to wait-” 

“Florence admitted she was jealous, but we won’t 
talk about Miss Grey. The light broke when I 
found you in the snow, and I was dazzled and 
carried away. For long I was strangely dull; but 
you know all and you’re generous. I need you in 
Canada. You risk it?” 

Alison blushed and gave him her hand. 

“I’ll marry you when you like, Kit, but I cannot 
yet leave Whinnyates.” 

Kit took her in his arms, and by and by he said, 
“Well, if Mrs. Tyson wants you, I must be resigned. 
You pay your debts and I cannot dispute her claim.” 

“When I join you all our debts will be gone; we 
will start without a load and look in front. In the 
meantime, aunt waits for the water.” 

Kit laughed and seized the bucket; Alison’s think¬ 
ing about the water was typical. They went to the 
house, and in the afternoon Kit started for the post- 
office. Mrs. Tyson stipulated for a wedding at the 
village church, and he must send Wheeler a cable¬ 
gram. 

Not long afterwards Led ward one afternoon 
arrived at Netherhall and joined Jasper in the 
library. For a time they talked about the forge and 
the letters Led ward brought; and then Jasper said: 

“Your wedding is not for a few days, Harry, but 
you must go to Sheffield in the morning, and I 
thought I’d give you my present.” 


333 


JASPER WINS 

Ledward thanked him, and when he took the 
check looked up in surprise. Almost he doubted if 
he read the figures accurately, but the writing in the 
body of the form agreed. 

“Your generosity is almost embarrassing, sir. I 
feel I ought not to take a sum like this-” 

“When one marries I imagine money’s useful, 
and I didn’t see much advantage in your waiting for 
a legacy. Besides, to know an avaricious Govern¬ 
ment will not claim its share is some comfort,” 
Jasper replied. 

Ledward began to understand, but he waited, and 
Jasper continued: 

“I am accountable for your starting on a business 
career. I excited your ambition, and perhaps your 
hopes.” 

“You made it possible for me to marry-” 

Ledward remarked, and stopped, for he saw Jasper’s 
twinkle. 

“The ground is awkward? Your beaten rival is 
my nephew. Well, if Evelyn and you are happy, 
Kit must bear his loss; and I want to talk about 
something else. Your help is useful, and since a 
wife is expensive, I must put up your pay.” Jasper 
stated the increase and resumed: “So long as I can 
carry on and you are willing to work for me, you 
will get the sum. The important thing is, it’s all 
you will get.” 

Ledward tried to brace up. The wedding present 
and increased pay was not all he had thought to 
get; but he admitted his employer was just. 

“I am content, sir.” 

“Very well. I don’t know if Evelyn will be as 




334 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


philosophical, but that’s another thing. Before 
very long I shall be forced to stop, and you are not 
my heir. For all that, my successor will need you, 
and I will stipulate for you to keep your post.” 

For a few moments Ledward was quiet. He had 
perhaps been justified in thinking himself Jasper’s 
heir. At all events, Mrs. Haigh had reckoned on 
his inheriting, and he imagined she and Evelyn 
would get a nasty jolt. 

All the same, he had some money; Jasper’s wed¬ 
ding present was a useful sum, and his pay was 
good. For himself he was not remarkably ambi¬ 
tious, and he had taken the post because he wanted to 
marry Evelyn. He knew her calculating selfishness, 
and perhaps it was strange, but he was not much 
daunted. Evelyn was not a fool, and by and by 
he thought she would see she had not much grounds 
for discontent. 

“I expect you know, I’m rather disappointed, but 
I must not grumble,” he said. “When I joined you 
I was a fastidious loafer and was getting slack. 
You gave me an occupation I was soon keen about 
and made it possible for me to marry the girl I 
want. I owe you much, sir, and on the whole I think 
I’m fortunate. Anyhow, so long as you feel my help 
is useful, it is yours.” 

“Your judgment is sound and I like your pluck,” 
Jasper remarked. “However, I get tired, and I 
expect your aunt will be interested.” 

Ledward agreed, and finding Mrs* Carson had 
gone to Mrs. Haigh’s, he followed her to the house. 
Although he thought he could picture Mrs. Haigh’s 
emotions, he was rather disturbed than sympathetic. 


JASPER WINS 335 

When he arrived tea was served, and Mrs. Haigh 
handed him a cup. 

“Jasper has given me a wedding present,” he 
said, and put the check on the table. 

“He is extremely generous,” Mrs. Carson re¬ 
marked with keen surprise; but when Mrs. Haigh 
noted the sum her color got high and she set her thin 
mouth. 

“He declares he is not,” said Ledward. “You 
see, he says it’s all I shall get.” 

Mrs. Haigh’s hand shook, and she put down the 
teapot. 

“Ah!” she said, “since the evening Kit arrived 
I think I expected something like that.” 

Ledward saw the knock was hard, but he knew 
her nerve was good, and he was moved to grim 
humor. Although Mrs. Haigh had lost the prize for 
which she planned, he thought she would not refuse 
the second best. 

“But I don’t see-” said Mrs. Carson in a 

puzzled voice; and then her eyes sparkled. “Jasper 
has cheated you!” she exclaimed and Ledward did 
not know whether she addressed him or her hostess. 
“From the beginning he plotted-” 

“I think your relation did plot,” Mrs. Haigh 
agreed, with an effort f&r calm. “Harry, however, 
has not yet told us very njuch.” 

Ledward began to narrafe his interview with 
Jasper. After a few moments Evelyn came in, but 
he did not stop. Evelyn ought to know, and he did 
not want to talk about the thing again. She rested 
her arm on the table and her color came and went. 
All were very quiet, and Ledward felt his voice 




336 CARSON OF RED RIVER 

jarred. When he stopped Mrs. Carson’s look got 
very hard. 

“Kit has conquered!” she remarked. “He gets 
all, and he will soon be your employer.” 

“Oh, well,” said Ledward, “I think Kit’s part was 
an unconscious part, and he’s not revengeful. Jasper 
promises that I shall keep my post.” 

“He made a tool of you; he tricked us all-” 

said Mrs. Carson, and stopped, for she saw what 
her remarks implied. She frowned and got up. 
“Alan waits for me. We are going to Hadrians- 
ford.” 

Mrs. Haigh went with her to the gate, and Evelyn 
gave Ledward an embarrassed glance. Jasper had 
used her and Harry, and she was humiliated because 
she thought Harry knew. All the same, Harry 
would not admit it. His part was obvious, and she 
expected he would play up. 

She pictured Kit’s romantic charm; sometimes 
Kit had moved her strongly, but Harry did not. 
She had weighed Harry’s advantages, and her 
mother’s arguments had tipped the beam. For the 
most part, his advantages had vanished, but she 
could not call back Kit. 

“I’m sorry,” said Ledward; “I expect your disap¬ 
pointment’s keen. Some of our plans for the future 
must go, but after all we really shall not be forced 
to be very economical.” 

Evelyn blushed and gave him a queer smile. 
“That is something! Since you’re frank, I admit 
I hate to be frugal, but it looks as if Jasper did not 
altogether cheat you, and I suppose we must be 


JASPER WINS 337 

content. Well, we won't talk about it. Do you want 
some tea?" 

Ledward said he did not. He thought Evelyn's 
inquiry typical, and they went to the garden. 

In the morning Kit, at Whinnyates, gave Alison a 
note in which Jasper stated that if the afternoon 
were fine he would try to reach the Netherdale inn. 

“You agreed to meet me, and although, I doubt 
if you were very willing, your word goes,"* Jasper 
wrote. “Then I would like you to bring Miss 
Forsyth. Perhaps I am not entitled to ask this 
favor, but I cannot get to the farm, and I hope she 
will indulge me." 

“Perhaps I ought to go," said Alison. “I feel 
he’s kind." 

“He's a queer old fellow. For long I thought he 
didn't mean to bother about me, but I begin to doubt. 
I certainly did not try to win him over." 

“I will go," said Alison in a thoughtful voice. 

In the afternoon they crossed the moors. When 
they reached Netherdale a man pushed a wheeled 
chair along the road. A thick larch wood rolled 
down the hill and the sun was on the fresh green 
foliage and a high mossy bank. Jasper ordered the 
man to stop by a large beech trunk. 

“Take a smoke and wait until I call," he said, 
and when the servant went off turned to Alison. 

“You know who I am, and we won't bother Kit 
to present me. I did not invite you to Netherhall 
because the house is not mine, and I dare say you 
know my nephew’s independence. Then since the 
spot is quiet and sunny, there is not much use in 
going on to the inn. You see, I soon get tired." 


338 


CARSON OF RED RIVER 


Alison saw he gave her ceremonious politeness, 
but his look was kind, and she smiled. 

“Kit is independent, but sometimes independence 
like his is justified.” 

“It's possible,” Jasper agreed. “Your champion¬ 
ing Kit is natural, because I believe you are going 
to marry him very soon.” 

“I wonder whether you think I ought,” said 
Alison quietly, and motioned Kit to wait. 

“You are frank, but I like your frankness,” 
Jasper replied. “Well, your lover is my nephew, 
and I know something about you. You spring from 
old yeoman stock and I think its virtues are yours. 
Our fortunes are recent and the founder of our 
house was a blacksmith. However, I want to talk 
to Kit, and I hope to have your support.” 

He indicated the smooth trunk and turned to Kit. 
“I imagine you feel you do not owe me much?” 

“Perhaps I did feel something of the sort, but 
now I don’t know. All the same, I’m puzzled. You 
found out Blake sold the boiler drawings. Yet you 
said nothing!” 

“My reserve was calculated. From the beginning 
I had plans for you. Then I felt the money I used, 
which might be yours, was not altogether mine. 
Some I inherited, but all was got by sweat of brain 
and muscle at office and forge; I was resolved our 
fortune must not be squandered in social ambitions 
and extravagance. It must be used to forge steel, 
to build ships and bridges and rolling mills. Our 
business is to hammer iron and I felt I’d sooner see 
my nephew labor with a navvy’s shovel than loaf 
about town.” 


JASPER WINS 339 

“But since I did not want to loaf, I don’t yet 

_ if J 

“I think Alison sees,” said Jasper, and gave her 
a smile. “When a man marries he is not altogether 
a free agent; much depends on his wife and some¬ 
thing on her relations. Well, I expect you will find 
Mrs. Carson’s point of view is mine, Kit, and in the 
meantime we’ll let it go. I wanted you to try your 
powers, to face obstacles, and get control and 
balance. In fact, I wanted to learn if you could 
go alone.” 

“I begin to understand, sir. You tried me out?” 

“Yes; I experimented. I felt I was trustee for 
my fortune and the business the others had built, 
and when I was forced to quit I wanted a man all 
could trust to carry on my job. Now I am satisfied, 
and I offer you the post!” 

Kit said nothing, but the blood came to his skin. 
He admitted he had not known Jasper, and his 
dulness humiliated him. 

“You ought to agree, Kit. The job is yours,” 
said Alison in a quiet voice. 

“Thank you, my dear,” said Jasper. “I reckoned 
on your support. Well, Kit?” 

“I’m embarrassed, sir, and half ashamed. At the 
shipyard I thought you might some time help me get 
a post; but that was all, and when the company 
turned me down I resolved I wouldn’t bother you. 
Since I’d got entangled, I myself must break the 
entanglement. Now I hesitate. I’m young, I don’t 
know if I’ve yet got my proper balance, and the 
job’s important. Then I undertook to build the 


340 CARSON OF RED RIVER 

tanks for the Canadian company, and I must make 
good.” 

“That is so,” said Jasper. “When you have 
carried out your undertaking, will you come back 
and talk about my plan again?” 

“Yes, sir,” Kit replied quietly. 

“It’s all I want; you must do what you agreed to 
do,” said Jasper. “Well, I doubt if I can get to your 
wedding; but perhaps Alison and you will meet me 
another time before you start ?” 

He turned and gave Alison a gentle look. “I 
expect you know your lover. Kit is good stuff, and 
now he will go soberly I feel you and he will go far. 
I soon must stop, but you have youth and hope. 
Your road runs on across the horizon; perhaps to a 
better country than we old folks know.” 

Alison kissed him, and he gave Kit his hand 
and called his servant. The man pushed his chair 
down the hill and they presently vanished in the 
shadows of the wood. Then Alison turned to Kit. 

“Your uncle is very fine! We must try to go 
where he expects.” 

Kit said nothing, but he kissed her, and they 
started up-hill in the sun. 


THE END 




























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